Despite the fact that I have enough clothes to go about 3 months without doing laundry, I only own about a week's worth of bras. Some of them are over 10 years old–which is depressing on two levels, one because it's obvious I'm still waiting for my boobs to come in, and two because who still wears their high school bras? I just never see the point to spending money on stuff that you can't even see when there are so many amazing shoes I need in my life.
I buy them so rarely that I remember the specific reasoning behind each purchase (there's always a specific reason to buy a bra). There's the lime green one that I bought in 9th grade at the height of my Gwen Stefani obsession, the black one with lace trim that I actually bought a matching thong for to "impress" an old college boyfriend (pshh, like men even care about underwear!), the red lace one that I bought for $3 dollars at H&M last year even though it's too small for me because ever since I saw Robin Tunney rock one under her tank top in Empire Records, I'd decided I NEEDED one. Basically my bras are like tree rings, revealing the secrets of my path to adulthood. Can you sense the ridiculousness?
This is not to say that this is some amazing or groundbreaking event in my life that needs to be analyzed as a key to unlocking my generation. No, basically I just realized that this is happening so I'm taking control. Now I'm on a quest to be an adult with a proper "lingerie wardrobe." Or maybe I just want bras that don't give me flashbacks to my 10th grade school dances or beer pong parties. Actually, I don't think bras should give you flashbacks at all. I want regular underwear with no associations from now on.