Throughout my life, I’ve worked countless jobs, all with the accompanying appropriate brassieres. Job as a tennis instructor? White sports bra. 7:00a.m. shift at the nursing home? Whatever soaks up sweat and repels old-people smell. Bartending? Something to pull in the tips and match my resting bitchface— spikes perhaps?
But now, I am matched with an unconquerable bra behemoth: Can I go braless to my job at a counterculture magazine? I know that their whole M.O. is disrupting the mainstream, but does such a goal apply to my nipples disrupting my shirt?
I know, I know, in today’s age of hyper-feminism and the afterglow of “free the nipple”, what do I have to lose at my women-led, fringe magazine? Well I’ll tell you: I’ll lose a place to hide my coke.
As we all know, the corporate world is rough. Beneath the moneyed luxury and dangerous intrigue of The Wolf of f Wallstreet — the prostitutes, the Quaaludes, the head shaving (which does, to be fair, come up quite frequently at a counterculture magazine, albeit somewhat differently) — are the lowly interns at their desks, unpictured and unseen. We grovel, we get coffee, we impersonate collection agencies to hound companies who haven’t paid their advertising fees. This country is built on the backs of underpaid immigrants and unpaid interns.
But what do we get? Bosses asking us if we’re “okay” after we take more than five bathroom breaks before lunch. Where is the justice? Where is the equality?
Listen, a girl’s gotta get through the day. And believe me, I’ve thought of every angle in the book. The pros of wearing a bra include a fierce pushup to get that $1 discount on my food-truck lunch, a very becoming silhouette, and a semblance of professionalism to hide my dilated pupils.
The list of cons is topped by, and consists exclusively of, the entrapment of my titties against the wind. Don’t we all deserve to feel that?
This is the new frontier of women’s lib. Will we shirk in our ill-fitting bras as we slink to the bathroom to rail a few lines? Or will we display our coke, out and proud, a dime bag on the desk? I hope that this personal reflection can inspire readers to be more open with their bodies and their drug habits.
Adorn yourselves! Pierce your nipples and don’t wear a bra to work! Buy a nice mirrored surface and a dainty container for your coke to live in on your desk, due to aforementioned lack of bra! If your coworker/boss Susan can force you to look at a photo of her toddler all day, you can store a nice aesthetic pile of pick me up next to your undoubtedly spotless keyboard. And next time, do a line, titties out, right off of Susan’s custom-made mousepad.
