Dressing for the prison visits my job requires demands a whole special wardrobe. I don�t really mind the ban on spandex. Goodness knows, I don�t wear spandex to work or anywhere else. Checking that my buttons are not metal is annoying but I�m too cheap to own very many clothes with real metal buttons. The big problem is the bras.

Ever since puberty, bras have been a BIG problem for me. Actually, technically, the problem is not the size of the bras�it�s the size of what�s in them. DD cups are hard to find in any style of bra. Finding a bra that fits and is comfortable is grounds for reciting the blessing that thanks God for sustaining me and bringing me to this wonderful season. It may even be grounds for altering that blessing to allow me to thank God for supporting me instead of sustaining me.

The only acceptably comfortable bras I currently own are underwire bras. Underwire bras will not pass through a prison metal detector. If I don�t pass through the metal detector by the third try, I don�t see my client and I�ve wasted most of a day. Prison visits therefore require me to bounce around uncomfortably with a less-than-adequate bra rubbing against me. For some perverse reason, the-prison- guard-grand-poobah doesn�t realize I�d be less titillating in spandex and my underwire bra. He�s saving the prison from underwires.

Approximately once every five years, I forget it�s prison day and I wear my underwire bra. I did it a month or so ago. Luckily, I have little, if any, modesty. The guard suggested I remove the bra and I did. I took the plastic bag the guard offered me, went into the ladies� room, removed my bra, and locked it in a locker. I then passed through the metal detector. The guard had assumed I would bring in the bra, stop in the visiting room ladies� room on my way to the office I meet my clients in, and put the bra back on, but he didn�t insist.

Instead, I decided just to put on my suit jacket, put on my trenchcoat, and let it all hang out. I just wasn�t willing to put up with the fuss, muss, and bother. More important, I was not willing to walk into the visiting room with my bra in hand and then, in front of all the men�both inmates and guards--go immediately to the ladies� room. I�m not modest but out-and-out leering annoys me.

So there I was, braless in prison. Prison liberation, of sorts.

|