Zing! I gotcha! How could you resist with a subject like that? Hook, line, and sinker. I should stop while I’m ahead. OK, folks, that’s all she wrote. Until next time.
No? Well if you insist. But I’m warning you, I plan to thoroughly torpedo this post with udder-ly tasteless humor.
So, here’s the deal. The trials and tribulations involved in hiking the A.T. are different for men vice women. I know, I know, we’re all created equal, blah blah blah; but really we’re not. I plan to address other differences in future posts, but for the time being, suffice it to say:
There you have it. I’ll leave you men out there to talk about your anti-gravity apparatus(es) on your own blogs. Around here, we’re talking about slings for the gazongas. Yeah, I said it: gazongas.
Let me start by saying how much I loathe bra shopping. To give you an idea, on a scale of one to 100, I like clothe shopping at a level of about a 3. Now, multiply that by 10%, and that’s about how much I like bra shopping. In fact, a few years ago for a birthday gift I had to beg my mom to take me bra shopping. I don’t even mean she paid for the bras; I mean to imply I just wanted her to help me find them. She knows me well enough that she nearly refused, not wanting to see me whimper and start eyeing the exit within five minutes of entering a store.
Now let’s hone in on sports bras since they came to mind when considering my Appalachian Trail attire. I must elaborate on how much I dislike wearing sports bras. If I want one that is sturdy enough to hold in the ladies (and they are ladies. Hey! My eyes are up here!), the design has to be racer-back, which – for the less informed of you out there – means I have to pull it over my head. I’ve worked out a handy technique of wrenching my shoulder out of its socket in my attempt to properly secure the bra – no big deal – but even then the only way the bra does its duty is if it’s clung tightly enough around my ribs to restrict my breathing. And, if it’s not, then it’s time to rinse and repeat with a second back-up bra worn over the first.
Even in the most perfect situation, the straps of the sports bra tend to rest on my shoulders by my neck, which – I assure you – is a most uncomfortable place for them to hold on for dear life. I tend to carry tension in my neck, and the sports bra straps serve to intensify the effect.
And yet, I thought, despite all of these downsides, maybe (just maybe!) I’ll find a sports bra that serves my purpose. In the past couple of months, I’ve ordered several varieties off of the REI website, always ones that clasp in the back instead of needing to be forced over my head. Sadly, none of the options have worked, and I’ve decided to go with my backup plan.
Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve worn compression bras, in particular at night. My mom’s always warned me that what goes up must come down. In other words, I don’t want a pair of knee knockers later in life, so I take care of them now. Well, it occurred to me that the only reason I usually wear a sports bra is for running since that requires a lot of forceful impact. While hiking is high intensity, it doesn’t turn my chimichangas into hot tamales (does that even make any sense? Haha, I don’t care. I just want to use as many words as possible from this breast euphemisms list.)
Benefits of compression bras include the following:
– they strap in the back like a normal bra
– the material (shoulder straps and cups) does not stretch or wear over time, which is a real problem in normal bras
– the material is quick dry
– they are way more comfortable than sports bras
– I already have a few pairs
Alright! One more thing off my A.T. gear list, AND I DON’T HAVE TO GO BRA SHOPPING!! Woo hoo!