Redneck Bra Poem

Last spring I visited my 90-year old Aunt Pat, who is as feisty as the day is long. It was a sad occasion: funeral. But when we got to her place after the service and the supper, she shocked the daylights out of me by saying, "Evie! Take off your damn bra! Get comfortable!" never before in my life had I been invited to take off my bra.

Aunt Pat and I then had a little discussion about the discomforts of brassieres. "Isn't it just the greatest feeling to take it OFF??", she said. Indeed.

We then went on to talk about the good old days when, surprise surprise, both of us had learned to take them off without taking our blouses off.

Ahem. You Might Be a Redneck's Girlfriend If:

You know how to do this: unhook your bra, slip the strap off one arm, and drag it out of your blouse sleeve on the opposite side.

Today after work I rushed upstairs, removed a particularly itchy and obnoxious bra, and wrote a poem dedicated to my Aunt Pat:

Take Off That Damn Brassiere!

To My Aunt Pat, who once surprised me by saying,
“Evie, take off your damn bra! Get comfortable!”

Now Life has many painful sides,
And hurts and sorrows sere;
But one thing every girl can do:
Take Off That Damn Brassiere!

When we get home from work, or church,
And feel our ribs crushed near,
We have not even slight regret
We toss that Damn Brassiere.

We love the way it shapes our front
Or keeps our front from hanging;
But we hate the way it aggravates,
And causes damns and danging.

It presses us when we should float
And squishes what should bounce
And so that Damn Brassiere goes off!
Regretted, not one ounce.

When we were little girls we loved
Its bows and lace and cheer.
But now we’re wiser, and we’d like
To torch that damn brassiere!

So ladies, take the lower road,
Be less than you appear!
And say to Hell with straps and hooks,
And to Hell with Thy Brassiere!

Let’s sag and droop with gravity,
And When Old Death grins near,
Let’s snap him in the face with our
God-Damnable Old Brassiere!