Genie-in-a-Bottle Bra

Talk about under armor!
those were the days (NOT!)what the big girls wore when I was still in undershirts

So what’s the DEAL  with these Ahh Bras and Genie Bras? Do you mean to tell me I’ve been spending over $100 for custom-fit bras when I could just stroll into a CVS or a Walgreens and throw a Genie Bra into my cart along with my batteries and my fish oil capsules?

I’d like a comfortable bra, sure… I’d be cheering, like Brandi here.

a win for Brandi a win for us all

At least my bras don’t dig into my shoulders anymore thanks to enough steel in the old underwire area to set off the metal detectors at the airport. (I am serious. This happens.)

And I’ve been taught by the pros that you’re just kiddin’ yourself sizewise if the center element of the thing doesn’t cleave to your breastbone. (If it gaps, it’s too small. Deal with it. The first speciality bra those fancy-pants brafessionals sold to me was a 32F, 32F!, and sold me a bra accordingly. I’m still not over it.)

But nowadays my torso is slightly rotated. so there’s some weirdness with the bra there, enough tightness in the band more on the right side than on the left such that I am MORE THAN HAPPY  by about 6 at night to pull those straps out through the armholes of my shirt the way we did at summer camp and leave the thing in a tangle on the floor.

So maybe I should actually look into the Genie Bra or Ahh Bra.

Anyway I’ve been looking at some YouTube action about them both. All I can say is I hope they paid these women well to walk let themselves be filmed struggling into their undergarments. Me I think I’ll just go on setting off metal detectors, at least for a little while longer.

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8 thoughts on “Genie-in-a-Bottle Bra

  1. Terry, I’m lucky; I don’t have to wear one at all; haven’t for 20 years. Just slip the t-shirt over my head, pull on the shorts or sweats and head out the door. Ah, freedom! Can’t do without my cotton underpants, though.

    1. Yep. Not for every shape though I think Jenny. At least that’s what my Facebook friend Lisa wrote the other day: “trust me. Not for you.” She has known me since I was her classroom teacher in the cinch-waisted bell bottom 70s

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