Every girl remembers their first bra fitting. Eyes looking up at the ceiling, lips pursed tightly, trying not to think about a complete stranger sticking a measuring tape where only your doctor is supposed to go. Mom standing outside the door, “How’s it going in there?”.  Feeling no need to respond because she knows how it’s going. The lady backs up as your arms fall back to your sides. A number and a letter so insignificant, yet so defining slips out of their mouth. “Alright sweetie, that one fits you good. You’re all done.” A continuous motion of shimmying your shoulders trying to get comfortable.

The wire dug into my upper rib, with one strap feeling too loose and the other too tight. I itched to get it off. I whined to my mom, the only person I thought would understand, but told me time and time again that I couldn’t wear sports bras with nice clothes. Sports were the only sanctuary. I wore a bra with no wire, just fabric and straps that remained the same length. Not to mention the security. OH, the security. The only relief I would feel all day. But, no… I needed to be “a lady”. Psh, what even is a lady anymore. My mom didn’t understand. I dreaded every day that I couldn’t wear a sports bra.  It felt like a job; I needed to be paid to wear a real bra.

Every girl also remembers homecoming and the hours of dress shopping that go with it, almost as much as their first bra fitting. Did you want strapless? Short? Long? Beaded? Sweetheart? There are so many options… but I had only one requirement for my dress. I needed to wear a sports bra. With only one dress constraint to keep in mind, finding a dress was easy:  black, simple, with a halter and a racer back design that was perfect for almost any sports bra. “Wow, you actually can wear a sports bra with that.” Duh, mom. In fact, it looked better that way. 

Moms are meant to be your biggest supporter. They are meant to hold your life together when it gets too full, and they are meant to lift your spirits, especially when you’re down. I began to look at my mother like my favorite sports bra. What more do you need in a mom… or a bra?