I almost titled this post The Year Without A Bra. But a line like that is basically hanging a "no boys allowed" sign on the clubhouse door. Which is to say, I'm fixing to talk about bras for a minute, but it's not really ABOUT bras, so all y'all guys should hang in for a minute. I'll get to a point.
My New Year's Eve plan was to put on a little black dress and what Reese Witherspoon would call "a full face of makeup" for our New Year's Eve in. Just to be festive for our our family game night and living room dance party (which, let's be real, we all knew was going to end up with us just watching a movie on the couch.) But then I worked out and by the time I finished with that and took a shower, my heart really wasn't in it to get fancy.
Then I got to thinking that putting on a cute dress would involve putting on an ACTUAL BRA, and having not engaged in such nonsense for going on a year now, let's just say that by 5:50pm I was back in my Christmas pajamas and waiting on Chinese food delivery. Glass of wine in hand. No underwire. That's not a bad night right there.
I spent last New Year's Eve at the Ryman in Nashville. They ran out of champagne at like 10:30pm., and I thought, bush league! Very poor planning on someone's part! But now all I can think is-- can you even get your head around spending New Year's in a crowded auditorium? At a concert where people are singing on you?? It seems like a whole other world. I'm sure things like that will all feel normal again someday, but it's hard to wrap our minds around at the moment. It's extraordinary how quickly our brains adapt to new information and circumstances.
And when I think about my aversion now to putting on a bra--or really, anything mildly restricting--I wonder if maybe our bodies have adapted to this new reality too. I know that not everyone has had the privilege of working remotely in the safety of our homes. But whether you've been home all the time or just cutting way back on social engagements and unnecessary outings, I think our expectations about comfort have changed, for men and women alike. We've gotten more attached to our sweatpants. But it's more than that. I think we've gotten more used to being in our space, with our people. And whether we live with family, roommates, or alone, I think most of us have grown accustomed to spending more of our time in a place where we can be ourselves, and just be.
Maybe without the daily demands of seeing and being seen, except by those who love us and know us best-- we are more comfortable in our skin.
I'm not going to try to say that my family never drives me crazy. That the kids never bicker or melt down, or that being married to a drummer without a sound-proof basement is not without its challenges. I will not pretend this year has been all cozy and great, because there are days I've felt like I was losing my mind from being cooped up, trying to work a full time job and navigate the trials of online school with tweens. It's been an anxious and often sad time for all of us-- and a devastating time for many.
But for all that -- I wonder if maybe we've better learned about what it means for our home to be a sanctuary. And if we might carry some of that forward in how we dress and present ourselves to the world.
The lingerie industry may never recover. Women will only ever buy bras for comfort now (and, okay maybe for "recreational" purposes). And lingerie won't be the only casualty. The retail world will have to totally reinvent itself. Shoes, clothing, accessories, cosmetics--all will have to adapt for a consumer who is comfortable in their skin and space, and shops accordingly. Hell, this might be the year the diet industry finally tanks too.
Would any of that really be the worst thing?
Here's to a year of reinventing, reimagining, and throwing out everything that doesn't serve us. I'm starting with underwire. What about you?