Obligatory discussion about bras ... or something along those lines

That's me. Age 24. Olan Mills photo. Engagement picture to be specific. The dress was an open back number. If memory serves me well, the undergarment worn was a strapless, low cut-back bustier. The boning in the damned thing was killing me. So, it's hard to believe I managed a smile. The front of the contraption dropped well below my waistline making sitting on the stool provided quite tricky. I had no belly; yet, it appears my gut resided on my lap.

I remember wearing this dress to the wedding rehearsal at the church. The deacon, with wide eyes, commented that it was quite a fetching ensemble. The difference that night was that I elected to go braless. No torture device was underneath. The bodice of the dress was snug and lined. My boobalas were still perky. Those were the good old days.

We opted out of the big, Catholic, pomp and circumstance nuptials. No priest presided over our union because a Mass wasn't part of the ceremony. We were married in the church, but the deacon we had a closer relationship with did the honor of guiding us on our path to wedded bliss.

What prompted this walk down memory lane? Oddly enough, an off topic but related reference to Adrienne Barbeau. You remember her, right? She was nicknamed Adrienne Barboob in our household. She played the daughter of Maude. Anyway, on a whim I bought a t-shirt featuring the late, great Bea Arthur. It possesses a play on a phrase made popular by the Pussycat Dolls. Upon seeing the image, one of my Plurk friends (like Twitter without the celebrity BS) commented about the crush he had on Maude's daughter. From that we posted images of Ms. Barbeau. One such photo was that of Adrienne in a white muscle t-shirt. In my early 20s I could wear one of those sexy tees without making the general public vomit while prompting them to beg me to cover up. I made a cheeky comment to that effect and posted a picture from my 18th birthday:

I cut my brother and his former wife from the photo. Heh. We'd gone out for dinner and I may or may not have had wine. Bro had already changed into casual attire. That t-shirt says, "Where in Hell is Kankakee?" Uh. At that point it was hell. I was visiting them in Boulder, Co. I was thisclose to moving there, but family members who shall remain nameless talked me out of it.

I made the dress that I'm wearing. Man, I loved that tea length dress with the dropped waist. I made a lot of my clothes back then. Tall lengths were not widely popular or affordable. So, armed with the sewing skills I picked up from my mom and sisters -- and 8th grade home economics -- I had a better wardrobe.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, it doesn't matter. It is, after all, always about me in some way shape or form.