Writing is so hard when I don’t feel like it. When I’m in the mood, when I have something to say, I can write a whole novel without pausing for breath. When I’m stuck, it’s like pulling teeth. It’s like work. Fuck that. Still, I soldier on. It will all be worth it in the end.
Yesterday I did something I’ve always wanted to try: just wake up one morning, pick up and go to the beach. God I love summer. I’d never been to Curl Curl before either, but my strategy of “drive around until I find a beach” paid off. The sea is a bit too choppy to do any serious swimming – or at least it was yesterday – so that was a shame, but apart from that, nice place. During summer I’m making it my mission to take any chance I get to just lie on a beach somewhere and read a book. That is the good life right there.
Wednesday was a full on cheat day because all I really did was listen to some hip hop I’ve never heard before. The Genesis Renji Young Casanova – Finding HER EP just dropped, give it a go.
Tuesday was one of those calamitous days, a comedy of errors that one would rather forget. It all started at 5:30am when, amongst other things, I was halfway to work when I suddenly realised that I forgot to put a bra on when I got dressed. You know…as one does. So I worked a full 12 hour shift and then went shopping, all in broad daylight and all with one’s bosoms completely unrestricted. Going through a full day in public tits to the wind was certainly a new experience, which I guess was the silver lining to that exponentially disastrous day.
Herein lies the beauty of doing this. No sorrys at training, and no disasters in the year of something new. When something like this happens, it’s just a new experience for me to deal with. Glass half full.
The interesting thing about going commando upstairs for a whole day is that it didn’t really bother me at all. Apart from the initial and ultimately erroneous fear that the cut of my top would result in sideboob issues, I never felt exposed or embarrassed by not having a bra on. Free the Nipple, as they say. But I think the underlying point that struck me is how much I’ve shed my modesty as an adult. When I was a teenager I was incredibly shy when it came to revealing my body. At school I’d dress in a stall instead of out in the change rooms. At soccer I’d change into my jersey by doing the traditional Modesty Wriggle under the shirt. Heaven forbid anyone get a glimpse of my torso!
I’m not sure when exactly the switch flipped, but nowadays I seem to be totally comfortable stripping off in front of friends, teammates or perfect strangers with reckless abandon. I’m happy to whip off my football kit in the middle of a crowded park, to strip down to my underwear with my friends around…and now to go to work all tits akimbo. I wonder why the complete 180. It’s not as if my body looks any more presentable than it did when I was a teenager. In fact it looks significantly less attractive. So I wonder what, if anything, accounts for me abandoning my modesty aside from the natural shedding of teenage self consciousness.
Whatever the case, I’ve been severely bitten by the freeboobing bug, and now I kind of wish I could get away with never wearing a bra ever again. Bras suck.