The lace was itchy, the elastic was uncomfortable and I couldn’t breathe. “I hate it!” I told her.
“They’re French!” she said, shocked. “How can you hate it?”
“I don’t care where they were made,” I insisted stubbornly. “I hate them.”
She fiddled with the straps and pushed and pulled (not that there was much at the time to push or pull but she tried her best) a bit. “Is that better?”
“No! It’s too tight. I can’t breathe.”
“Oh, that!” She let out a sigh of relief. “That’s just how a bra functions.”
“What!” I was stunned.
Amrita refuses to bear ‘the pain of being a woman’
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