A friend asked if I’ve examined my reasons for wearing bras. She’s got opinions about breasts being a strong nurturing symbol and how we institutionalize the need to either support or constrict them. In the ancient goddess mythologies, the feminine is mysterious giver and taker of life.

I tell her I like the shape a bra gives me and also the protection, because my skin is sensitive to texture.

But the ceramic goddess figurines are always voluminously naked and bra-less. My friend says she’s been easing herself out of bras for a few years now, that it’s helping her rediscover the inner need to nurture herself first.

“Obviously, for me, breasts aren’t about nurturing,” I say, because some of us don’t find ourselves in the threadbare stories. We need new mythologies, these old ones recycled like over-worn undergarments with broken spandex fibres.

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