Yes, it is true. I was peer-pressured into wearing a bra.
Peer pressure: social pressure by members of ones peer group to take certain actions, adopt certain values or otherwise conform in order to be accepted.
peer: a person of the same age, status.
Okay, let me rephrase! Lets say I’ve been pressured into wearing a bra (not the deletion in the word ‘peer’). Its pretty much just my mum who forced me into one. This is going to be hard to explain, because it means I must explain my younger-self. So I used to get mad about being a girl and I used to feel that men get more respect. I hated (and still do) sexism against females, the way they are portrayed in the media,(some) men’s generalisation about women, the feeling of being put down from certain tasks because I am a woman. I used to make a right show of trying to explain to the world that I am fully capable – as capable as a man. I could be a man! I would fight with boys; fist fighting, none of the itty-bitty bitch slaps. Yes, I am physically quite weak, but I wouldn’t stop. I hate cars but I would work on broken cars with my Dad, fix broken things around the home, and occasionally, even get rid of insects. Man, I even used to talk in a lower voice than my own; a habit which still kicks in sometimes, less frequent now though. I was a little mad. The young me was quite the radical feminist. Ofcourse, the feeling has faded with time; more time spent with other girls helped. Boys became more interesting, I started to enjoy dressing up and talking over fighting.
Now lets talk about my Mum. She is an overly prepared woman and a bit too expectant. As I was a tall girl as a child, everyone ASSUMED that I’d gain “womanhood”early. My my, how wrong they were. (haha, if I recall correctly, I was one of the last five girls in my class to start my periods – shout out to all the mothers who nosily asked my mum whether I started; Dont ASSUME!!). Anyway, so my Mum was always way too early to introduce me to new things, but knowing my crazy anger about being a girl, she just randomly surprised me with things she thought as essential, (it wasn’t, who needs hair-removing cream when they’re 10?!). I suppose the perk was that I never had to ask awkward questions. Not that I’d find any of it awkward, if the time came, I would have put it bluntly:
“Mum, my boobs hurt.Tthey’re growing and girls with boobs in school wear bras. Buy me one”
“There’s hair under my armpits. Help me take them out”
It wasn’t necessary though because my Mum bought me my first bra when I was 10. The bra grossed me out SO much, I was MAD MAD MAD. I was FUMING! I threw it in the bin.
She fished it out, washed it, let it dry and then pressured me to try them out. I cried so much then, I hated bras.
Afterwards, upstairs in the sanctuary of my bedroom, I took my anger out on my own bra – I remember biting on the bra, trying to hurt it. I’m playing the scene in my head and I’m cringing. I must have looked like such an idiot! If there was a peeping Tom peering in, he would have been frightened.
When I eventually needed to wear bras (when I was 14- my Mum was 4 years early. Too expectant, I tell you), I remember feeling uncomfortable, angry and irritated. That feeling too, with time, faded.
I now collect cute bras. I even got my Dad to ask someone in Japan to buy adorable bras for me ( my Dad goes abroad a lot). In Japan, the bras are absolutely KYOOTEE!! I cannot stress that enough.
Hahahaha, how things change. Okay, this is so weird.
Did anyone else out there feel like this?
And a great big thankyou to all those who have followed my blogs, it means a great deal to me. I could cry out of happiness, especially as writing is something I find extremely difficult. You are my motivation to keep blogging. I love you all even though i don’t know most of you, but if you did live close by, I would give you all the biggest hugs.
And thank you all, for
listening reading my nervous awkward rant.