Do My Breasts Really Need Fixing?

Bras, bodies, comfort — and the quiet freedom of choosing for ourselves

I came across an article this week called “What Happens To Your Body When You Stop Wearing A Bra For 30 Days.”

Naturally, I clicked.

Because apparently I am incapable of encountering one of those little rules women inherit without asking, but why?

The article makes some rather dramatic claims about what happens when women stop wearing bras — changes to breast shape, circulation, posture and even nipple position.

Some of those claims become considerably less impressive when you go looking for the science behind them.

But that actually left me with a much more interesting question.

Why do women’s breasts need anything to happen to them at all?

Why can’t breasts simply be breasts?

I don’t need a scientific excuse

There is something faintly ridiculous about women needing to demonstrate a medical benefit before we’re allowed to remove an uncomfortable piece of clothing.

We don’t demand a peer-reviewed paper from a man before he takes off uncomfortable shoes.

Yet going braless apparently needs to improve circulation, strengthen something, prevent something or hoist something northwards before it can be justified.

There is a much simpler argument:

A woman might simply be more comfortable without one.

Another woman might prefer wearing one.

That’s fine too.

This isn’t an anti-bra argument.

It’s an anti-obligation argument.

Will going braless stop your breasts sagging?

Probably not.

There isn’t good evidence that routinely wearing a bra causes breasts to sag, or that abandoning one somehow trains them to remain permanently pert.

Research has associated breast drooping with things including age, breast size, pregnancy, higher BMI, significant weight loss and smoking.

In other words, breasts change because bodies change.

Gravity also gets involved because gravity has never shown any particular respect for femininity.

Bras nevertheless have a perfectly legitimate purpose. Breasts move, and for some women — particularly those with larger breasts or during exercise — support can make an enormous difference to comfort.

The NHS recommends a properly fitted bra as one option for breast pain. Interestingly, NHS guidance also acknowledges that some women are more comfortable without one.

Imagine that.

Different women having different bodies.

Revolutionary stuff.

The problem isn’t really the bra

The interesting part is everything we’ve decided breasts are supposed to do.

They must be symmetrical.

High enough.

Firm enough.

Not too large.

Not too small.

Not visibly ageing.

Not moving too much.

And heaven forbid somebody should see the outline of a nipple through a T-shirt and discover that women have them.

A man’s nipple beneath a shirt barely registers.

A woman’s can apparently constitute breaking news.

So sometimes bras aren’t worn for physical support at all. They’re worn to make breasts less visibly breast-like.

And that’s where things become interesting.

There’s nothing wrong with loving a beautiful bra. Wear one because it feels fabulous, makes an outfit work or stops your breasts attempting separate escape routes during a jog.

But there is a difference between:

“I like wearing this.”

and:

“I have to wear this because my natural body isn’t acceptable without it.”

One is choice.

The other deserves questioning.

Breasts change because women live

Perhaps we should also stop interpreting bodily change as bodily failure.

Breasts change with hormones, pregnancy, weight, menopause and age.

Of course they do.

Research into body image has repeatedly shown the influence cultural appearance ideals can have on women’s dissatisfaction with their bodies. One large meta-analysis brought together 78 studies involving 39,491 people and found a strong relationship between internalising cultural body ideals and body dissatisfaction.

That’s quite a lot of people being measured against ideas about what bodies should look like.

The particularly cruel part is that women are encouraged to pursue an ideal based heavily upon youth while simultaneously having the audacity to remain alive and therefore get older.

It’s a competition nobody can win.

So perhaps we should stop entering.

Naturism taught me something different

This is where naturism becomes considerably more interesting than simply removing clothes.

Clothes can hide enormous amounts of human variation.

Naturism reveals it.

Real breasts aren’t all pointing forwards.

Real stomachs aren’t permanently flat.

Skin wrinkles. Bottoms have cellulite. Bodies have scars, stretch marks, hair, veins, folds and asymmetry.

Spend enough time around ordinary naked people and something wonderful happens:

ordinary starts looking ordinary again.

The manufactured body begins losing some of its authority.

Instead of constantly asking:

Does my body look right?

Naturism offers a much kinder question:

Can I become comfortable living in it?

So, thirty days without a bra?

I’m not suggesting throwing your underwear onto a ceremonial bonfire.

Bras are expensive. Let’s not be silly.

Instead, try noticing why you put one on.

Comfort?

Support?

Sport?

Fashion?

Habit?

Fear of judgement?

Concern somebody might detect the shocking presence of nipples?

There doesn’t need to be a correct answer.

The interesting part is whether it is genuinely your answer.

Wear a bra because you love it.

Wear one because you need support.

Don’t wear one because you’re more comfortable without it.

Don’t wear one because it’s hot.

Don’t wear one because today you simply cannot be bothered.

All perfectly legitimate.

Because liberation isn’t replacing one rule with another.

It’s recognising that the decision belongs to the woman whose breasts are actually involved.

Our bodies. Our comfort. Our femininity. Our choices.

And as for the suggestion that going braless might move my nipples upwards by a few millimetres?

Quite frankly, my nipples have enough to do without meeting quarterly performance targets.

Perhaps our breasts don’t need to become firmer, higher or younger-looking before we accept them.

Perhaps the more interesting transformation happens when we stop believing they needed fixing in the first place.

If nobody could see you, judge you or have an opinion about your body, would you make exactly the same choices about what you wear?