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 © 2020 by Sheryle Cruse
“How To Put a Bra On” discusses the bra
challenges that come after Breast cancer surgery.
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