The View From Inside A Bra

The Flood

I learned early that the view from inside a bra is far superior to the view without one.

Seriously.

I suppose I should start by telling you about my family. They're weird. Since I am a member of my family then you can take it as given that I'm weird. Let's start with my grandparents, that is my Mom's parents. Since they live in the same town as we do I got to see a lot more of them than Dad's parents, who live a couple of thousand miles away.

Grandma Sena is one of a kind, for which mercy I have heard several people rejoice. The word 'hippie' comes up a lot when the talk turns to Grandma Sena.

Unfortunately for the premise of this story, Grandma Sena has frequently been known to go braless. Now this didn't mean much to me until I got to be twelve years old, but by then I was truly unable to grasp how a woman would actually not want to wear a bra.

Not that I was going to ask her why, but by then I already knew. Grandma Sena would tell just about anyone that she hated sweating in a bra when she had hardly any tits. And yes, she said tits. Since she barely filled an A cup she did have a point, or should I say two points visible under her blouses. She was a teacher, but as soon as she retired her 'professional wardrobe' was ignored in favor of peasant blouses and long, full skirts when she wasn't running around in a t-shirt and jeans. In case you're wondering, she still did justice to a bikini swimsuit, but you can't get away without wearing the top.

Grandpa Gene must have been satisfied with her modest endowment, after all I have four aunts and uncles. He was a teacher, too. Like Grandma he dumped the professional wardrobe on retirement and wears whatever he darn well pleases. This includes skirts on occasion. I just about died the first time they took me with them to a folk music festival. Not only did I have to cope with an entire crowd of people just as odd as my grandparents, but these people would stay up all night singing and dancing.

That's when grandpa wears a skirt, one that matched Grandma's. Nor was he the only guy in a skirt, seems that folk dancers don't think it's weird for a guy to dance in a skirt. I'm pretty sure that was my first inkling that I was going to like wearing a bra, along with the rest of the clothes girls wear. It was also the place where I first saw a girl wearing nothing but a bra and panties.

Not that I wasn't familiar with bras, Mom and Dad believed children should know how to do all the household chores and I was washing my mother's bras and on a regular basis. My sister got to wash my underwear when it was her turn to do laundry, but I don't think it gave her the thrill I got from mom's bras.

Dad's turn now. His name is Gabe and he does custom carpentry – things like furniture and custom cabinets for your kitchen. Even when he's cleaned up he often smells of pine and oak. He also smells of turpentine and stain, but you have to take the good with the bad. As far as I know he's never gone dancing in a skirt, at least I have never washed a skirt that would fit him. Since he's a lot bigger than Mom it would be easy to tell their skirts apart.

Now we get to Mom, Milla by name. It's pretty easy to see how Mom got her personality from her parents, she takes everything in stride – unless you present her with something particularly stupid, then watch out! I suppose I need to tell you that there is no way she can join her mother in the braless look, as she fills a DD cup. (Remember, I do the laundry, so I know.)

She's a librarian, real good at research and can tell you something about just about any subject you care to name. Like Dad, she espouses the philosophy of child rearing that might be stated: give 'em good guidance and then let them make their own stupid mistakes. That is, unless it looks like it might lead to the hospital or the morgue.

Lastly we have my sister Kris. She's ten months older than me (which makes the adult me realize how much Dad appreciates those DD breasts) and for as long as I can remember we have been the same height and within a few pounds of each other. So – you guessed, didn't you? – we have always shared our clothes. Real convenient when I found out how much I like wearing a bra.

When I was ten years old I adored my big sister and wanted to be just like her. She had long dark brown hair so I let mine grow the same length as hers. No problems with an overbearing dad, thank you very much, as Dad believes that a person's body is theirs to control. (Unless you're talking about tattoos. No tattoos allowed until age eighteen.)

Since I wanted to be like my sister I had adopted some rather girly habits, not that I realized it at the time. Fortunately, both Kris and I went to an arts-centered school, where no bullying was tolerated and individualism was encouraged. Not that I didn't get any grief there, but no more than any other kid who is into the arts and music. If you're wondering, I was learning the guitar and Kris the flute.

I guess that wasn't really lastly, since I haven't introduced myself. I'm Eric, or at least I was. Erica fits much better these days. So now you have met the family and we can get on with the story.

Actually, we can credit Grandma Sena for getting me my first bra. Kris and I were spending Easter vacation with Grandma and Grandpa while our folks took off for a few days by themselves. Spending time with G&G is always fun as we always got to stay up late and do cool stuff with them. We were always assured that there would be a lot more stuff in our suitcases when we got home than we brought with us.

So of course, we just had to take a trip to the mall. This was when I was ten and Kris was eleven, and we were delighted when we dressed alike and people thought we were twins. Naturally, we talked Grandma into a stop at the food court before we did anything else, then just happened to pass Game Stop, so we stopped. Kris wasn't quite as into games as I was, but she could give me a run for my money with some regularity. Of course Grandma just shook her head as we discussed the merits of this game or that bonus package, but we agreed on one we both would like and Grandpa shelled out the cash.

Next stop was Claire's, since Kris had gotten her ears pierced a few weeks back. Mom and Dad weren't too thrilled since her girlfriend did it with a needle and an ice cube, but let them make their own mistakes carried the day. Since her ears didn't get infected and require a trip to the hospital, it met the parental criteria.

Naturally, I wanted my ears pierced, too, but Mom and Dad didn't buy my reasoning – or lack of reasoning. 'I want to be like my sister' wasn't good enough. We collaborated on what would look good, but I really wished it was me getting a pair of earrings.

When Kris put them on the counter the salesgirl said: "If you buy two you get a third one free. Wouldn't your sister like a pair for herself?"

And there, my friends, fate stepped in. Remember, we were the same height and weight, both of us had hair down to the middle of our backs and were dressed alike. Sisters, right?

"My ears aren't pierced," I said.

"No problem. The piercing's free if you get a nice starter pair."

I looked at Grandma (I couldn't look at Grandpa because his back was turned as he tried to stifle a laugh at his 'granddaughters.') With a snarky smile she said "If my... granddaughter wants her ears pierced, who am I to stop her?"

"Really?"

"Go ahead!" urged Kris.

"Every young ...mumble, cough… lady ought to have her ears pierced," opined Grandpa.

So I left the place with two fake diamonds in my ears. Darned if they didn't itch, but I thought it was pretty cool and no way was I going to admit it. At least I wouldn't be the first boy at school to have earrings, but I knew I would get some ribbing. I didn't really worry, though.

Seems I would have to worry, though. Grandpa started the kidding right away.

"So how do you like having a sister, Kris?" he asked.

"Grandpa!"

"Even I can't tell the difference between you two half the time."

"Early Alzheimer's, you old fart?" taunted Grandma.

"Double vision, I suppose."

"Well, people do think we're twins, you know," said Kris.

"And you don't do anything to encourage them, right?"

"Who? Me?"

Kris didn't do innocent very well.

"If Grandpa can dance in a skirt then why can't I be a twin sister?"

"Genetics?"

"Seeing is believing, eh?" said Grandma.

"Think you have the nerve to go into the ladies room with me, sister?" asked my sister.

"Not if it means I have to take half an hour whenever I have to go."

"She does have a point, there," commented Grandpa.

"Got a stopwatch, old man?" asked Grandma.

"Right here on my phone. I guess we don't have to worry about timing to the hundredth of a second like in the Olympics."

"Bathrooms ahead and to the right. Ready when you are, girls."

"Three... two… one… go!"

It's hard to pee quickly when you are laughing so hard. I'm sure Grandpa knew just what would happen if he challenged a ten-year-old to do something – anything! Go and pee in the ladies johns? Now really – wasn't that something a bunch of ten-year-old boys would think was crazy enough to do? Hadn't I just fooled that sales clerk into thinking I was a girl? I was ready for the challenge.

There wasn't much different about the ladies room except there were no urinals. I went into a stall, closed the door and did my business. I somehow knew ladies had to sit down to pee, but don't ask me how I knew. It must be something that is so entrenched in the culture that you just knew that was how it was done. So I sat.

I beat my sister but Grandma came in dead last. Maybe she had more to get rid of. Since none of us were wearing makeup, we didn't have to do the 'freshen up' bit.

"Eric...a clocks in at two minutes, fourteen seconds. Kris at two minutes, thirty-eight seconds and the love of my life at three minutes and forty-three seconds."

"Screw you, old man!"

"Not until the children are back home."

"Don't listen to this sex maniac, children."

"Huh?" I was a bit too young to realize what was being discussed.

"I never listen to Grandpa anyway," Kris replied.

"Now wait a minute!"

"Hold on, let me get out my phone to time it," replied Grandma.

So grandpa went into the men's room and came out one minute and forty-five seconds later.

Showoff!

"I bet you didn't wash your hands, did you Gene?" Grandma accused.

"Hah!" came the reply, and Grandpa put both his hands on her cheeks and gave her a big smack on the lips.

"See, damp hands, oh you of little faith."

Grandpa can be pretty cool sometimes.

The rest break being over, we continued with our shopping. Naturally Kris wanted to check out clothes. Now normally that would not be all that interesting, but since I was my sisters twin I figured that I should go clothes shopping, too. Never underestimate the power of sibling rivalry.

Now many of you reading this will be hoping I will take a trip to Victoria's Secret and find myself in a heaven of lace and feminine frippery.

Sorry – wrong number.

We were a middle class family, not that I realized at the time - we headed to JC Penny. Kris headed for the blue jeans right off, the ones with sparkles and embroidery, with me just tagging along. This didn't sit well with Grandma.

"Just a minute, child. We're here to get you a nice dress so we can go out for a fancy dinner."

"But…"

"But me no buts, child. Over here."

So we looked at dresses. It took a while to come to an agreement as to which dress was suitable and Kris was sent off into the dressing rooms to try it on. When she came out, Grandma had a peculiar look on her face.

"My little girl seems to be growing up. You're going to need a bra with that dress, child."

"Really?" asked Kris. That's what I've been telling Mom."

"And she should know from bras with her physique, for pity sake. Let me grab the saleslady and get you measured."

So Grandma got the saleslady and asked her to do a fitting.

"OK girls, both of you come in to the fitting rooms and I'll take care of you. I don't think I've done twins before."

Suddenly my big sister worship acquired a new wrinkle. Measured for a bra? Grandpa was once again trying to stifle a laugh and Grandma just slapped her forehead and said "It seems it will be the first time for the twins as well. Let the lady do her thing, girls."

If you haven't figured it out, Grandma has a strange sense of humor. So Kate and I were herded into the changing booths and told to remove our t-shirts. Since we were supposed to be sisters the lady didn't worry about both of us undressing together. It wasn't all that long ago that we wouldn't have worried about being naked together, but we were just about old enough to realize girls and boys shouldn't be undressing together.

But right at that moment I wasn't a boy any longer, was I? So off came the t-shirts. The lady told us we had twenty-eight inch busts. I couldn't help but notice that Kate's nipples were bigger than mine and looked a bit swollen.

"Wait here, girls, and I'll get you both training bras."

Off she went and Kate and I just looked at each other.

"This is getting weird, Kate!"

"I've always wanted a sister, but I never thought one would be available at the Mall."

"It's not funny!"

"You can pee like a girl, so why not dress like one. Can you imagine Mom and Dad when we get home looking like twin sisters?"

"Home?"

"Sure. Once you find out how great it is to be a girl you won't want to change back."

"You are so full of…" I never got to finish because the lady was back with two boxes.

"Try these on and I'll help you adjust them to fit properly."

I won't go through how I learned to put on a bra, that story has been told so many times it isn't all that interesting any more. In no time at all we were wearing our first bras. Much to my surprise I liked the feeling of wearing a bra.

So Kate put the dress back on, but I only had my t-shirt. Or so I thought. Before the curtain had settled when Kris left the changing room, Grandma was there with another dress.

"Try this on, Erica. That way you and Kris will match."

Since Kris hadn't removed her jeans before trying on the dress, I didn't either. Putting on the dress wasn't any more difficult than getting into a long t-shirt. When I looked in the mirror I really did look like a girl. Before I could lose my nerve I followed Kris out and showed off my new dress.

"Well, at least she doesn't look like Tiny Tim," remarked Grandpa.

"Who the heck is Tiny Tim?" I asked.

"That's just plain mean, Gene."

"Yeah Grandpa, who is this Tiny Tim? Not the kid from the Christmas story about Scrooge."

"Well, God Bless Us Everyone!" intoned Grandpa.

"Will you guys cut it out and answer the question?!"

I was getting annoyed enough to forget I was wearing a bra and a dress out in public in front of an entire store.

"You asked for it," Grandma said, hauling out her cell phone and clicking away like a teenager. Hold on to your hats, girls. Here he is."

This is what she played us. Tiny Tim Clip.

Sometimes I have to wonder about my grandparents. Only they could come up with something weirder than turning me into Kris' twin sister in the JC Penny store. When the clip mercifully ended, a lady and her two kids were nearby. She looked at us and gushed "Aren't they the sweetest things! Sometimes I wish I had two girls instead of a girl and a boy, it would make shopping so much easier. You girls must love being twins!"

Was I really a girl? A twin to my big sister? In some ways it was thrilling to be someone new, and what kid doesn't love fooling the grownups? But then, until just that moment, I had been happy to be a boy, but now I was happy that this stranger thought I was a girl. Heck, I was wearing a bra and a dress, only girls wore bras and dresses. So what did that make me?

Happy, that's what it made me.

Then suddenly I was trying to decide whether my grandparents' brain-rot was catching or genetic. It had to be passed on somehow because here I was, a boy wearing a bra and a dress in a big store in the mall and thinking this is kinda fun! I sort of automatically thanked the lady, after all I was a polite girl.

Yeah, right!

Naturally, Grandma got out her phone and took bunches of pictures. I certainly did like looking like my sister's twin sister, but some small vestige of boy was a shocked. Was I really that girly?

Have you ever watched a video of when they open the floodgates on some big dam? First there's a trickle, then it gets stronger and before you know it everything downstream is washed away in the flood. That's sort of how that shopping trip turned out. Before we got out of there, Kris and I had panties, bras, skirts, cute girly t-shirts, pink shorts, even a nightgown and a whole host of frilly socks. Those frilly socks went with a pair of shiny black shoes that Grandma called pumps. The only pump I knew about was the one that circulated the water in our swimming pool. I was getting the feeling I needed to find a couple of more words that mean weird because I was using that word far too much.

Anyway, you've got to have pretty shoes to go with a pretty dress, sneakers just wouldn't do. The clunky black shoes that I wore when I had to dress up in a suit? Even I could figure out that would look stupid.

Sure, Kris could wear all of them when I came to my senses, but I actually helped choose the girly clothes I was going to wear. And I really did want to wear them.

I was learning that the world is a different place when viewed from inside a bra.

Calm Waters

I woke up late the next morning. One nice thing about staying with Grandma and Grandpa is that you can get away with lots of things Mom and Dad wouldn't let you get away with. Grandpa even has a sign in his rec room that says 'What happened at Grandma and Grandpa's house NEVER HAPPENED!' So Kris and I got to stay up late and watch movies with Grandma and Grandpa. Or maybe I should say Erica and Kris got to stay up late.

That's because we were both wearing nighties and bunny slippers. Actually, the bunny slippers were mine from before; they were a joke that Grandpa got me one time when I was scandalized that people used to actually cut the feet off rabbits for good luck. The nightgown was new, soft lavender fabric with a very cute bunny on it. Kris had a blue nightgown with a unicorn. We both fell asleep long before the movie ended, and Grandpa carried us off to bed while we continued sleeping.

But now it was morning and I had to pee. Naturally, Kris was hogging the bathroom and I was left dancing and crossing my legs outside the door for far too long. I envied Grandma and Grandpa because they had a bathroom right in their bedroom. One thing did puzzle me though – I wondered what candy had to do with a bathroom in your bedroom? At ten I was ignorant of the French 'en suite'.

She finally finished before I leaked all over and rushed in, slamming the door. It sure is easier to pee when you don't have to shuck your pants first, just lift and go. There are some advantages to being a boy, but I was quickly learning the advantages of being a girl.

With that taken care of I stopped in Kris' room to find out what clothes we should wear today. I was happy to let my big sister be my fashion guide. Since we were going to visit a museum Kris decreed we should dress up a little. Skirt and blouse were the order of the day. Even though I had a few skirts of my own now, Kris let me borrow one of hers that she thought would go well with one of my new tops.

That morning I found out putting on a bra without a helpful saleslady to help with the hooks is harder than you would think. I struggled with those darned hooks but finally got them latched. Panties were much easier, no different than the underwear I usually wore, really. Well, a bit softer and tighter, but I soon couldn't tell the difference. Once I was put together, Kris and I braided each other's hair, something we had been doing since my hair got long enough to do it. I really liked how the the braids flopped around when I shook my head.

I was easily amused.

Eventually we made it downstairs, where Grandpa fed us his famous peanut butter and banana pancakes with real maple syrup. Both Grandma and Grandpa are great cooks, and they make lots of interesting stuff. You never know what Grandpa is going to come up with. That vacation he had gotten a new Indian cookbook, so we got to try Tikka Masala and urad dal and lots of things that we had never heard of.

Mom and Dad were adventurous cooks, too, so we had learned to try just about anything. We were seldom disappointed. Kris and I were learning how to do simple stuff in the kitchen at that point, but nothing anywhere near a fancy as our parents or grandparents, though.

While we were scarfing down pancakes, Grandma looked at us and said "Your parents got quite a kick out of seeing their twin daughters, girls."

Now that was what you call a showstopper.

"They what?" cried Kris.

"They liked the pictures I took. Those yellow dresses suit you quite well."

"You didn't!" came popping out of my mouth.

"Of course I did. You're too cute to hide."

"What did she say?!"

"Here, read it for yourself." She handed me her phone.

{Thanks, Mom! I can hardly wait to meet my new daughter. Good thing she's too young that we have to worry about boyfriends yet.}

You can imagine just how my ten-year-old self took that one.

"Yucch! Boyfriends?"

"Like your Mom said, you're too young yet. But you are cute. The boys are going to love you in a few years."

"Grandma!"

"Comes with the territory, sweetie. If you want to be a cute girl then you're going to meet cute boys. Of course, these days cute girls can pair off with other cute girls…"

"Cut the kid a break, Sena," advised Grandpa. "After all she hasn't been a girl for a full day yet."

"But it's so much fun!"

"This is not getting us to the museum. I want to see those miniatures."

"What's that, Grandpa?" Kris asked

"A display of miniature rooms with full details. Amazing craftsmanship. Sort of doll houses on steroids."

"I guess if I'm a girl now I have to love doll houses."

"Up to you, kid. Girls can do what they want in this family, just like boys."

"But us girls have more fun, right Erica?" piped up Kris.

"Of course." answered Grandma.

It had been a while since we had been to the museum, and I liked it a whole lot. Of course Grandpa made us look at the miniatures first and they were OK. Actually, since Dad makes cabinets and furniture for a living I had seen him working and was just getting old enough to appreciate the detail of his work. I don't have any pictures of those exhibits, of course, but I stole this one from the Chicago Museum. A couple of years ago I got to see the Thorne Miniature Rooms at the Chicago Museum. I had a much greater appreciation for the amazing work since I was much older.

We did have fun there, and I fell into the role of twin sister quite naturally. I liked the dinosaurs more than Kris and she liked the anthropological exhibits more than I did. We both liked eating lunch in the museum cafe. I'm not sure Grandma and Grandpa liked paying the outrageous prices, but that didn't mean much to us kids.

The week flew by as Grandma and Grandpa took us to the zoo and the art museum and such places. It wasn't until Friday, when the weather warmed up enough for a picnic, that I realized this week with Grandma and Grandpa was different from our usual visits. We had been out in public every day; usually we did one of two interesting things and spent most of our time in the house. I mentioned this to my sister as we fooled around on the swing set.

"It's cuz you're a girl this week, silly!"

"Huh?"

"Just because you have blonde hair you don't have to be a ditz, Erica."

"I am not a ditz!"

"You like being a girl, right?"

"I guess…"

"Such enthusiasm! Look, you're wearing a training bra just like me, right?"

"Sure."

"And you haven't complained even once about how it itches or feels funny. I have to be careful not to scratch my little boobs where people can see me. That's no fun!"

"I like how it feels."

"Maybe that's because you don't have little boobs like mine. But you like wearing a bra even if you're a boy."

"Maybe I shouldn't be a boy…"

"Bingo! Give the girl a boobie prize!"

"You're weird."

"Haven't you figured out that they're trying to give you a chance to feel like a girl? You're halfway a girl just being you."

"What?"

"Maybe you're blonde for a reason. Erica, you think like a girl. How many times have you done something just because you want to be like me. Like your sister?"

"But you're so smart. How do you know all this stuff?"

"Cuz I'm a girl, of course."

"Then I want to be a girl.

"You really do, don't you? You just never thought it through."

"I guess…"

"No guessing. Just be Erica while you can and worry about what happens after we get home. Mom and Dad love both of us and you need to talk to them."

"OK…"

"Enough serious stuff, Race you to the monkey bars!"

So my big sister took the lead again and we played until it was time to go home. In the car I asked Grandma if she was right and it grew quiet for a while.

"So you figured it out, eh?"

"Not me, my smart big sister."

"No dumb blondes in this family. So tell us, do you like being a girl?"

My answer was confused, no surprise. The idea slowly sunk in and it was Erica who arrived home Sunday afternoon, to a round of hugs and love. Naturally, she had to go into storage for school the next day, but the experiment was a success.

The Open Sea

I started seeing a therapist soon after and spent the summer as Erica. Fortunately, this was far enough back that us transgendered folk were not political footballs. I was able to start puberty blockers and then hormones when the time came.

Erica came out when I reached twelve and I grew up as a girl and finally a woman. There are darn few people who realize I'm transgendered and I'm fine with that. I know I'm a woman and so does everybody else.

In a few more days, Erica will walk across the stage and get her bachelor's degree with one of those Latin phrases hung on the end of my name. I started writing this because two days after I graduate we fly to Thailand for a medical vacation and I will have my bottom surgery. Since the hormones came along early enough, there is no need for any changes to my top. These days I need a bra for the same reason any woman needs a bra – I ended up at a very nice C – sort of splitting the difference between Grandma's A and Mom's DD. A very nice compromise.

Romance, you want to ask? (OK, be honest. Sex?) Not sure yet, I am attracted to both sexes, so maybe I'm bi. Time will tell, but as I said before, the world is a much nicer place when viewed from the inside a bra.