By Sophia Yakumithis

Every time I go home, I feel like I leave something important behind. This time, that something was my bra.

I have a lot of bras; probably more than I need, considering my breasts are comparable to cherry tomatoes in size. Regardless of my tiny boobs, the only bras of mine currently housed in Boston are sports bras or bralettes, so I greatly miss the two pairs of underwire I’ve worn since seventh grade.

Luckily, like I said, the girls are small, so it doesn’t really affect what I wear or how I feel, other than these two issues: my boobs don’t feel supported and they are less perky. 

What I did not expect to come out of this case of forgetfulness, though, was my own awareness of my chest as I go about the day. Since I’m not wearing a piece of clothing I’m used to wearing every single day, my entire body image is out of whack. 

The last time I felt self conscious about my boobs was on the first day of high school. I never really cared about that “first day of school outfit,” but this was high school, so I wanted to look ready for Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Issue. The plan was to wear an Abercrombie navy blue, peplum top with a low cut back (since Sylvania Southview High School is full of brooding, sartorial men waiting to sweep me off my feet), but the only clean bra I could find that morning was a racerback sports bra. Panicked, I found an ace bandage and used it in place of a strapless bra. 

I’m sure no one else — except maybe the horny 14-year-old boys in my orientation group  — noticed how weird my chest looked, but I sure as hell did. I noticed it enough that seven years later, I am still haunted by the stiff, uncomfortable sensation that bound my breasts all day in a uni-boob. 

Don’t come at me with, “Oh, lucky you. You don’t have back pain, you can wear whatever you want, et cetera.” Just because my tits are teeny doesn’t mean I don’t get crumbs stuck in between them just like the next guy. Boobs are just clusters of different types of tissue that reside conveniently on your chest and are fun to play with when you’re naked. And they’re even more fun when someone else plays with them. 

So, while it sucks that I don’t have my favorite bra with me, my boobs are still my boobs and I still love them for who they are. But I will love them even more when I don’t have to free ball it or wear a sports bra every day.