The Power of the Red Bra!

I have always been a rule follower. ALWAYS.  To  a small extent, I am still a rule follower. I am just choosier about the rules I follow. Obviously, for school, work, and society some rules have to be followed. Plus, I am writing rules and regulations, so I will have to follow those rules, too.

I didn’t grow up in a family that was necessarily in-the box, or big rule followers, but I was. My sister, Sam, never cared what people thought of her, and I was always a little jealous of that personality trait. I did care. Too much. A few months ago a friend told me that I was a good person, and I needed to stop caring what others thought of me. I have taken that to heart because he’s right. I did grow up in a critical family, who I didn’t want to disappoint or do things that could be used to make fun of me. But here’s the thing: a couple of weekends ago, I lost my emotional cool (in front of my dad’s “boss’/friend, and no one judged me for it.  No one judge me but me because I was embarrassed, and I hate being emotional in front of people. In my family’s defense, I am part of the critical behavior—we can all comment on each other’s lives, but damn you if you try, we will stick up for each other. I play a part in the dynamic. I am not proud of myself, but I will admit it. Plus, I am overly sensitive to their comments.

 Although I didn’t grow up in a super strict home, I had strict grandparents. My mom’s parents would take me to church every Sunday, and teach me the “right” way to live. As a child, I always thought it was interesting my grandparents would take us to church, and then we’d break the Sabbath by growing to Bruegger’s Bagels after the service was over. They were breaking the rules they told me to live by. It never quite made sense to me, but I was a child, who was I to question. (Now, I would question). The church that my grandparents took me to was filled with many people; some of which were very kind and generous; others, who were very judgmental. My grandpa fits into that second category. When he came to visit NC earlier this year, he went to the church we all attend. When one of the patrons asked him if he was going to attend the next week, he responded rudely, “I am going to attend MY church. His response to the kind man irked me. Really bad.

We live in a critical world. I don’t want to contribute to it. Though I will admit, I have been judgmental in the past. Very judgmental. That’s not fair of me. I have tried to be conscientious of it because it’s not a positive quality to have. I don’t want people to judge me, so I should not judge them. It hasn’t always been easy. At times, it’s human nature to judge things we don’t understand. I feel we need to try to understand people’s difference. Not everyone is the same. Not everyone should be. If we all were, life would be boring. We need to learn from the people we don’t understand; it will help us understand ourselves better. I have learned some of the greatest life lessons from the people I judged the most when I first met them. I am grateful that I allowed myself to get to know these people. If I had not, I would miss out on some great friendships.

Now that you have all this backstory….here is the story of the power of the red bra…Since I was an older teenager, I always wanted a red bra. I felt if I owned one, men would think I was more attractive. Studies have shown that men are more attracted to women who wear red. I am a redhead, so I can’t wear red. I look terrible in the color. At least fashion rules tell me so. I agree with those rules, so I follow them. I watch tv, and I see redheads wearing red, and they look great.  I must be trying the wrong reds. I figured wearing a red bra was okay because it couldn’t really clash with my hair/skin. Plus, what young woman doesn’t want to be more attractive to men? Even though no man would see it, I was sure they could sense I was wearing a red bra, haha. Men have never really seen me as attractive, so I thought I would help them along a little. I know I am pretty, but no one gives me a second look.

I always worried that if I bought/wore a red bra, I would be seen differently. That it would be my Hester Prynne designation (if you don’t know her, she’s the adulterous woman in The Scarlet Letter, who has to wear a scarlet A on her clothes to signify her sin to the public). Now, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t think buying and wearing a red bra was bad, only that people would see/treat me as whoreish because “slutty girls” wear red underwear.  After all, as Cheryl from  Miss Congeniality  says, “red underwear…wear Satan’s panties.” I am not trashy. (Me judging that girls who wear red panties are whoreish or slutty, which not all of them are). Nor do I want to be.  In fact, by the world’s standards I am still pretty innocent and naïve. For examples: I was 24 before I had my first kiss; I bought my first bikini last year. I didn’t want to show off my body because I was raised to cover myself because showing skin was immoral and led to bad behaviors. I was afraid of appearing to be something I wasn’t and disappointing the people who care about me.

About a year and a half ago, things changed for me. For some time I had been questioning the church I grew up in, not because I felt the teachings were untrue, but because I didn’t believe the culture was conducive to teaching people to living good, caring lives. (Now, not everyone who attends the church is this way, but I found it a general issue). I had a hard time for many years attending church there, but when I moved to Pennsylvania, the leadership was very harsh—he made me feel like I was always making bad choices, and that I was a bad person because of those choices. I am not, nor have I ever been a bad person. I may have taken missteps or been misguides, but in general, I believe I am a good person. His judgment was hard to handle. In one particular meeting, he lectured me about how I did something wrong, and from then on, I did not attend that church. The same church that is here was more welcoming, but I still felt out-of-place, as if I had done something wrong. I still believed in God and Jesus, and I felt I wasn’t living my best life sitting at home on Sundays watching tv and sports.

When my dad asked me to go to church with him, at this new church he had been going to, I went. I felt loved and accepted there, like I could be myself, which I hadn’t felt in a really long time. I went the next week and the next and pretty much everyone since because I feel comfortable there. I will admit, lately I have felt like members of the congregation there have become less accepting of others—not me in particular, but I have seen it. It makes me sad. Shortly after I started attending church there with my family, I met some friends, who accepted me for me. I could laugh with them and be myself. I felt comfortable, and I knew they wouldn’t judge me. I liked that feeling.

Last week, I was doing some retail therapy, after some heart-wrenching things happened to me. There it was—this beautiful red bra, staring at me from Kohl’s Intimate page. I knew I had to buy it. After all, I have wanted to wear one for years. If I could wear a bikini in front of people, I could certainly wear a red bra no one would see. I bought it. The package came Thursday. When I took the red out, I realized what this red bra really meant. I was breaking my own rules. I am such a rebel, haha. The bra is beautiful and fiery—kind of like who I am. I may be quiet and shy, but I have a passion inside of me that would scare a lot of people. I get feisty. I stand up for what I believe in. In a way, this bra is metaphorically me. It will remain hidden, but in it lays fire, passion, bravery, etc. I told someone recently that I am tough on the outside, but I feel deeply and quickly on the inside, so if I get hurt, I get hurt deeply. I am very tender-hearted.

I put on my new, red bra, and I felt different. I know that’s silly—the bra is just some lace sewn together. I felt strong and brave, like I could conquer the world. This bra does not make me a slut because of its color. I am not a slut, nor have I ever been one. Wearing a red bra won’t change my personality and suddenly make me promiscuous. God doesn’t love me any less now that I own and will wear a red bra. I can still wear that red bra and go to church on Sunday and feel good about myself. That red bra does not change who I am or my morals and values. It has made me braver in a sense.

I wore the red bra yesterday. I danced and sang; I allowed myself to let loose and be free. It was exhilarating. I came home and sat in my bra and underwear for an hour, just enjoying what had happened, who I had been. And guess what: no one treated me differently because I wore a red bra. No one judge me, or thought I was slutty.

I realized these were all perceptions I was attaching to other people—in a sense, that’s a form of judgment. I am deciding how they were going to respond. That’s not fair/right of me. I don’t know their mind, and how they think. I had been accusing people of what I thought they were doing to me. We all judge, and we all do it unjustly. We need to be aware of when we are judging others. I know I need to be more conscious of it. As I said before, it’s easy to let that part of human nature take over. It’s difficult to be open-minded and allow other people to influence our lives. That allows us to be vulnerable and open, to get hurt by letting other people in our lives. I have been more intentional about doing this the last year.

In addition to being more open, honest, and vulnerable, I have challenged myself to do something I have never tried before each month. This month, as simple as it was, it was to buy the red bra and wear it.  I will keep wearing my red bra when I want to feel brave and open, more “Morgan” than when I hide myself away from the world. With all the hurt people have inflicted upon me lately, it would be easy to hide away from the world and become a hermit. At times, I have wanted to. Disconnect, unplug. Stay in my room, never leave. I have forced myself to have lunch with friends or go shopping. Just live my life. It hasn’t always been easy. There have been days I wanted to stay in bed; that I cried, cursed, and been angry. I realized that’s okay, as long as it’s not how I live my life.

The heartbreak isn’t going to control me. If I let it, then the heartbreak, sadness, hurt, and pain wins. I am not going to let heartbreak win. I want to live a happy life. I want to have joy. In my inspirational message to my family this month, I wrote: “Choose joy! Don’t wait for things to get easier, simpler, better. Life will always be complicated. Learn to be happy right now. Otherwise, you’ll run out of time.” I truly believe this and want to live my life this way. If I need a reminder, I am going to put on the red bra.

So, see it’s so much more than a red bra. It’s a symbol of what I am trying to be, and the side of myself I want the world world to see—the brave and vulnerable side. As a sign of that vulnerability, I am posting pictures of me bravely showing off my body (which I have worked hard to improve) in the bra, so you can see an open, vulnerable, and brave part of me. I am sorry if that offends you, but I have to live my life being my best self.  I will not apologize for who I am, or the growth that’s occurring in my life. I am not ashamed, and I will not be ashamed.