National No Bra Day is my kind of holiday

The other night my husband was watching “The Walking Dead,” and there was a female character with her bra strap showing.

Now, I don’t watch this show, but I’ve heard enough about it to understand it’s about zombies taking over, right?

OK, so riddle me this: There are zombies. Creatures that eat humans. And in order to survive you must kill these creatures. Only the tough are going to survive (I’m toast). There is no room for girly girls in Zombie Land. And yet you tell me women in Zombie Land still get up every morning and put on a bra? No.

No, no, no. Watching the scene I thought, “If zombies come, I’m so ditching bras. It’s hard enough running away from the undead without being constricted. And then I thought, Well, wait a minute. Why am I waiting? Why not just ditch them now?”

True story: I once left a meeting early, claiming I had to “dash to another meeting.” I actually used the word dash. In actuality, I dashed to my car, where I removed my bra. It was my favorite meeting ever. I met freedom, and it was glorious.

I do not have a love/hate relationship with bras. I just have a hate relationship. Loathe. All kinds, but especially underwire, sport, lace, wireless, pushup, adhesive (ouch!), bandeau, front closure, back closure, training, maternity, full support, strapless and the bras bought at a discount store that are so cheaply made it looks as if they have built-in cloth nipples.

They aren’t really nipples, but the material pokes out, and sure looks an awful lot like nipples under a T-shirt.

I also hate when you happen to find an OK bra — one of those rare times when the stars align and God himself isn’t busy with anything else and so there is a divine presence in bra shopping — and you wear it and wear it and wear it and wear it (it happens, fellas, don’t even pretend your socks are fresh every day) and then one day one of the underwires pops out and jabs you in the armpit and you look down and you’re sorta lopsided, and so you compensate by walking to the left, just a bit. Totally hate that.

So wait. Maybe I do hate all bras. Even the Manssiere and the Minimizer, and I’ve never worn either. Well, I never actually wore a training bra either, but I imagine I would detest that, too.

And apparently this news isn’t really news to anybody, because I’ve had no less than 10 people post on my Facebook wall about National No Bra Day. TEN people took time out of their days to let me know it was nationally accepted, at least for that one day, to not wear a bra. Awww.

Those are my new favorite 10 people. Thanks for looking out for my girls.

I kind of wish National No Bra Day, July 9, was the same day as National Cupcake Day and National Wine Day. That would be cause for celebration. There would be parades and everything. Slow saunter kind of parades, because, you know ... no bras.

I bet I would be brilliant at marketing for Victoria’s Secret. Sales would plummet, but there would be a lot of happy women slowly sauntering around.

You’re welcome, America.

Email Kami Collins at


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