When Violet missed the bus this morning, I threw on a thin t-shirt and yoga pants to run her over to school in the car. I did not have time to put on a bra, because my kids both have a deathly fear of being "tardy." I think it is the old-fashioned formality of the word, or perhaps the desire to be punctual is genetic (paternally).
Driving at my usual glacial pace, I wondered aloud whether I should do the car line, or park and walk to the door. I dislike the car line, but with the principal standing in front of the school, should I really saunter up braless?
"Mommy, why do women wear bras?" asked Violet.
"That's a good question." I answered. "I think because society expects women to wear bras."
"But why?" she persisted.
"I guess people don't want to see women's breasts bouncing all over the place." There was no other way to say it.
Violet found this hilarious. I parked and walked her to the door, because my bosom is not so remarkable that anyone would really notice that I didn't have a bra on. Or at least that's what I choose to believe. She was not tardy.
Then I came home and read The New York Times article about the fashion expectations for city moms at drop-off, and I was thankful once again to be suburban.