Everyone Needs a Little Support
I think life is like a pair of boobs, and the people in our lives are the bras.
Some lift you up. Some support you through the heavy times. Some look good but offer absolutely nothing when you really need them. And some squeeze the life out of you, dig in where it hurts, and leave marks long after you've gotten rid of them.
That got me thinking.
Our parents are like the training bras of life. They're our first support system—there before we even realize we need one.
They don't always know exactly what they're doing, but they hold us close, give us room to grow, and try to keep us from popping out into the world before we're ready.
When I was eleven, I prayed and prayed to the Boob Fairy.
Between you and me, I think I prayed a little too much because one day, my raisins grew into watermelons.
Going braless wasn't a fashion choice for me. It was a public-safety issue.
If I turned around too quickly, I could have knocked someone unconscious or poked them in the eye.
My mother may have given me room to grow, but once I grew, she wasn't letting the girls out by themselves.
She came from the burn-your-bra era. She believed in women's liberation—just not mine.
Before I went out at night, she would always hug me goodbye. Not because she was going to miss me, but to make sure I was wearing a bra.
My boobs were so firm that I could bounce a quarter off them and hold at least seven pencils underneath them.
How do I know this?
My cousin and I were creatively bored before cellphones.
Back then, I thought being a strong woman meant keeping everything contained—my boobs, my feelings, my problems, and my plans.
Stand up straight.
Look presentable.
Keep it together.
And whatever you do, don't let anything pop out in public.
But sooner or later, something always does.
My boobs are exhibitionists. They've always enjoyed making surprise appearances when I least expect them to.
It was one of my first lessons that neither boobs nor life can be completely controlled.
So now I wonder: Do boobs imitate life, or does life imitate boobs?
I have another cousin with what we lovingly call Marty Feldman boobs. One looks left while the other looks right.
Like life, they don't always know which direction they're going.
But some boobs have found their purpose.
I have a friend who can hold a bottle of wine under her boob and pour you a drink without using her hands.
That, my friend, is a support system with benefits.
Then there is my older friend who actually got her boob caught in her zipper.
I can't.
I just can't.
I'm not sure there's an inspirational lesson hidden in that story. Sometimes a boob caught in a zipper isn't a metaphor. It's a public service announcement.
But she told us, and we laughed with her.
That's what women do.
We take the tender, embarrassing, and completely ridiculous things that happen to us and turn them into stories. Then we tell those stories to other women who grab their own boobs, wince, and say, “Oh my God!”
Those are the women you need in your life.
The ones who have seen you exposed, lopsided, and completely deflated—and love you anyway.
The ones who laugh with you when things make surprise appearances.
The ones who help you hold everything together when life gets heavy.
Maybe our boobs aren't the only things that change shape as we get older.
We do too.
Some bras, like some people, fit perfectly for years but become uncomfortable as we change.
Some look beautiful but offer no support whatsoever.
And some seem fine at first, until the underwire works its way out and starts stabbing you.
Yet we hang on to them.
We put them in the back of the drawer and tell ourselves that maybe we can make them comfortable again if we keep adjusting.
We do the same thing with people.
We stay in relationships we've outgrown because they once fit us perfectly. We remember how good they felt in the beginning, so we keep trying to squeeze ourselves back into them—even when we can barely breathe.
That old bra may have supported you through some very important years. It may have been exactly what you needed at the time.
That doesn't mean you have to keep wearing it after it stops fitting.
The same is true of people.
Outgrowing a relationship doesn't mean it was always wrong. It may simply mean it no longer fits the person you've become.
The right relationships shouldn't require us to flatten ourselves, reshape ourselves, or become smaller just to fit inside them.
The right people let us breathe.
They support the person we are now, not the person we used to be.
And sometimes the most supportive thing we can do for ourselves is finally let go of something that keeps digging in and leaving marks.
Letting go doesn't erase the years it fit.
It simply means we've changed shape.
So if life is like a pair of boobs and the people in our lives are the bras, I hope we choose the comfortable ones.
The ones that support us without suffocating us.
The ones that never make us feel as though we need to be smaller.
And I hope we can be that kind of bra for someone else.
Because the right support should fit the woman—not force the woman to fit.
Back fat included.
Looking for the perfect gift for your ride-or-die? Shop Friendship Gifts →
joey ❤️
