Just before I entered my pubescent years, women began burning their bras in protest for their personal freedom. Then, as I entered those hormone-raging teen years, they stopped demonstrating their need for unrestrained freedom. Just my luck!
My teenage years have long since passed. As I entered into the beginning of my second half century of life, my wild-oat yearnings of youth have been tempered with a few decades of insatiable bills, a bad spouse and never-ending work. That doesn't mean that the spark has been put out. Especially since I've learn that those women of the bra-burning era have returned to freeing themselves from their bras. But this act is only as a cheap alternative to plastic surgery and the best wrinkle lotion money can buy. Apparently, gravity helps an unrestricted chest smooth out those lines of maturity in the female face.
Maybe I should invent a bra for older women that operates like a venetian blind. I'm just not sure I want to see the testing as it takes place ...
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