How To Put a Bra On

After my 2017 Breast cancer diagnosis, as I recovered from my bilateral mastectomy, I hadn’t counted on this particular problem. Putting a bra on.

I was once a large- busted woman, in double D territory. And, granted, I’ve never had a well-fitted bra, pre-mastectomy. In the past, whenever I tried to cope with an ill-fitting double D, the issue was more about finding non-ugly bras than finding ones that were large enough to house my bustline. When I finally managed to find one or two that didn’t make me cringe, I’d put them on over my head or step into them. Presto! I was in my bra.

Once I recovered from my breast surgery and radiation, however, the landscape changed. I was fitted, correctly so, with mastectomy bras. The firsts of their kind included one white garment, one black, both with cute little rosettes on them, for added sassiness. I was able to insert my chosen B cup breast forms into them. It was dramatic. I was no longer “top heavy,” as I had been most of my life.

And then, things really looked promising: “Coobie” bras. These “comfort bras” had a built-in shape already to them; there was no need, then, for my breast forms.  My husband actually bought these two for me, selected from the wider range of colors offered. One of them was even purple. Purple! Finally, some actual color in my life!

So, here I was, with an exciting reality of pretty and colorful bras, set before me. I should be feeling comfortable and feminine right about now, right?

Well, not quite. And here’s where old bra-festooned me collided with new, post- mastectomy, bra-festooned me. The former me was able to put my ill-fitting bras over my head or step into them, spinning the already- fastened garment around my midriff and slipping the straps over my shoulders. Because my pre-surgery bras were, indeed, larger and ill-fitting, there was enough room for these maneuvers.

But now, with these well-fitted bras, there was just room for, well, me.

I tried slipping them over my head. Nope, too restricted, not enough room. I tried stepping into them, hoping to do the midriff slide. No such luck there, either. I wound up ensnaring my legs with the bra halfway up my thighs; it was a wonder I didn’t trip myself, bonking my head on the corner of my dresser.

So, unless I wanted to learn the trade secrets of a Cirque du Soleil acrobat, I needed another plan.

The only way seemed to be the good old- fashioned way. I had to put them on, leading with my torso, slipping the straps up my arms and over my shoulders and fasten them by their hooks in the back. I tried a number of times; it wasn’t happening. The amount of fabric housing the two clasp options on these newer bras was only an inch. With my larger, pre-mastectomy options, I was accustomed to a three-to-four- inch swatch of material, accommodating at least four different clasps. I was stranded, fidgeting, attempting to get hooked already.

I finally had to resort to yelling for my husband, “Honey, please help me?”

With the more relaxed, Coobie bras, there was no such hook. These were strictly over the head bras. But, because they were a second skin fit, wriggling into these bras overhead was a greater challenge than I was used to experiencing.

Fitting 911:

I couldn’t go on like this, contorting myself into a pretzel, just trying to get into my lingerie. And, unless my husband wanted to be on constant standby, I needed to figure out how to put my bra on all by myself.

Therefore, I called my Breast cancer supply store. This shop is a sorority of women having gone through their own Breast cancer experiences. They “get it.”

I asked about another fitting for my second pair (out of six) of mastectomy bras, allotted per year, via my insurance plan. I explained my predicament, asking for any front closure bras and strategies to help me get dressed. I was told there was one bra which had a front closure feature; we could order it in a 38 A, to compensate for the adjustments during my next bra fitting.

So, I showed up. I was met by the lovely Gail, who worked with me in an earlier session.

Brands of Bras:

Gail laid out my black 38 A bra, from the ABC brand of bras. This piqued my curiosity. I asked about the major brands available. Here are some offerings you should be able to go into any Breast cancer supply store and ask for by name.

Besides ABC, responsible for my front closure bra, there is Amoena (pronounced Ah-Mona, but looks like it’d be pronounced Amoeba). My first 36 B black and white rosette bras were from this company. You can also ask for my beloved Coobie brand “comfort bras” and Luisa Luisa, which provided the recovery garments I was given for my bandaged, post-surgery and pesky drain needs.

As I was fitted with my ABC black, front-closure bra, something immediately caught my attention. This bra had clasps in both the front and the back. Where had these wonderful creatures been all my life?

I’d never encountered this option with bras before my breast surgery. Gail told me she believed only mastectomy bras had this feature. The design and patent MUST have come from a woman.

The 38 A strategy worked great with my 36 B breast forms. I fastened the six front closure hooks and voilà! I was in my bra.

Strategies:

I also asked for additional strategies. Gail suggested the tactic of putting on the bra first, gathered around the midriff, while inserting the forms into the bra pockets, instead of fitting the forms in first before dressing.

I tried that maneuver with both my rosette Amoenas and my front-clasp ABC option. Not surprisingly, theses bras proved more of a contortionist challenge.

Again, with the close fit, there simply wasn’t as much room for sliding and shimmying. Trying to get my forms in still felt difficult. My wrists can only bend so far.

With my front-clasp ABC, I had better results. It’s difficult to say how much of that success was attributed to the midriff/breast form approach while on my body or how much of the ease was directly related to the fact that the bra was a 38, not a 36.

And that leads me to my next strategy. Go for getting a larger size if you need to do so. In my situation, the original measurements of my first bras simply added 4 ½ inches for the larger bras. It can feel a bit like a bad Algebra class, trying to size this math accurately. How a 38 A emanates from a 36 B, I’m not exactly sure. Which is why a professional fitting is a must. They know how to make the math happen.

No “Perfect Fit:”

I’m learning, overall, this entire mastectomy bra thing is trial and error. There is no perfect bra, Cinderella. You can try certain brands and maneuvers, but, as with our new bodies, it’s about adjustment, not perfection.

But hopefully, in these imperfect life changes, you and I can, at least, somehow, someway, put a bra on.

May you, in you own adventures, indeed, NOT BE, fit to be tied in the process!

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse