I work at an interesting place. It’s a building with now windows on the exterior walls, doors that remain locked until you radio for them to be opened, and people screaming “Go to hell!” when I ask if they want breakfast.
I’m a Deputy Sheriff and I work in a county jail.
I wear several layers: bra, tank top, stab-proof vest, and uniform shirt. I was assigned to work our control room in the jail, which is a job where you sit alone in the room, locked inside, watching cameras, answering phones, listening to the radio.
I was thirsty. I have a bathroom in here, but no cups. I radioed my fellow deputies to bring me cups, but they were busy and I got tired (and thirsty) of waiting. Resorting to cupping water into my hand via sink is not beneath me, but when I raced to and from the bathroom to watch cameras, answer phones, and listen to the radio, I reached the point where I was just looking for SOMETHING to hold water.
I found a liter-sized pitcher in the cupboard. Pleased, I filled it with water, probably more water than I needed but I’d never drank directly out of a pitcher before so it was hard to tell. I carried my pitcher of water back to my seat, and because I’m watching the cameras on my approach, I slam the pitcher into the back of my chair.
Water shot up and splashed down my front. Not picky about where it went, it soaked me beneath my stab vest.
I have zero ventilation beneath my stab vest, so where my uniform would dry on its own, I had to remove my uniform shirt, stab vest, and bra. My bra soaked up most of the water (#girlproblems) so as soon as my tank top dried, I replaced my stab vest and uniform shirt so I could be duty-ready once again and put my bra somewhere to dry.
As I went about my day, I came closer to a turning-point in my life: I don’t need a bra. I’m only a B size, and since I have a thick plate of stab-proof fabric over my chest, it serves well for its own support. Further, I stopped sweating as badly since I was down one layer. It’s been five months. I haven’t worn a bra to work since.