Training Bras...

Today mom, B, and I took O clothes shopping. My ever-funny and frighteningly intelligent youngest sister bounced over to the wrack of "training bras,"* becoming the latest victim of our over-sexualized society. Okay, we all know the history of bras. That wacky Frenchman thought of yet another way to torture us females, because high heels obviously weren't enough. I must admit they have their benefits, but why would anyone with a training "cup" (it's a tiny 2" by 2" triangle that is not the least bit cupped)? What exactly are they keeping in place? And what the hell is a training bra, anyway? Do they teach the girls to do tricks? If so, mine are stunted and sadly untalented.
I don't understand girls who are excited, enthralled, and exuberant (yes, I exhausted my 'E' vocabulary with that) about certain developments. The first instantly means you are no longer "one of the guys," your IQ instantly goes down if they're any big than a "training cup," some people will try to have full conversations with them, and jumping jacks become your enemy. I mean who likes getting smacked in the face 200 times?
The second means Eve has an excuse to kick your ass every month, and if you don't like the torture devices commonly referred to as tampons, you have to go around wearing something that is about as comfortable as a diaper for a week. If that doesn't make you cringe, trying cramping, which is not only in the stomach region, mind you. Guys swear you have mood swings when they're just stupid enough to stand between you and the chocolate, or utter "PMS." Bah! Permissable Manslaughter.
I myself was the person who defined "tomboy." Sure I had long blonde hair past my waist (it darkened naturally), and occasionally played with Barbies, but that is beside the point. I was respected by the infamous Big Kids, and was wild...okay, stupid. I took any dare, even if it meant jumping in a field with an angry bull. Admittedly, not my brightest moment. How I made it to age 8 is beyond me, because I can think of at least nine times that I could have, possibly should have, died. I remember clearly when those damn changes started, I was furious, especially with mom. She fixed everything else, why couldn't she fix that? I eventually got used to the changes, and don't mind them so much now, expect the second one--I'll never get used to Eve's ass kicking, which puts Chuck Norris' infamous roundhouse to shame.

Disclaimer: I do understand that bust size is a touchy topic for many women, but this was not directed at you ladies, but more the 3 year olds wearing undergarments akin to things I might find at Victoria's Secret.