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Ode to the ThirdLove T-shirt Bra

Forget flour — this was the best pre-pandemic purchase I could have made.


Hey, girl.

Oof, that was a lame way to start this letter. I tend to quote pop-culture moments when I’m nervous. And writing to you is definitely out of my comfort zone. I’m scared — of what I saw, of what I did, of who I am. But most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling, the rest of my whole life, the way I feel about you. 

Yes, I ripped that from Dirty Dancing. But just like Johnny, you were there for me at every step, and continue to be, even in this unprecedented, bra-optional time. It was only a year ago that I stood naked in front of a mirror, navigating the ThirdLove fit finder and trying to decide if I really needed a custom bra; if my left boob was a half-size bigger than my right; if their shape was “teardrop” or “relaxed.” From minute one, you asked all the right questions: Where did old bras go wrong? What did I want long-term?

On delivery day, you showed up on time and looking like you’d put in some honest-to-god effort. When things got rocky — you were a bit gapey, I didn’t want to commit — all it took was a heart-to-heart with one of your phone reps and, presto, a set of replacement bras showed up on my doorstep, at no extra cost. I was hooked.

The urge to rip off my bra at the end of the day has disappeared.

It’s quite a thing to realize, at 43 years old, that you’ve never known what true support actually feels like. These bras lifted and separated. They’ve held their shape wash after wash and still wear like a dream on my skin. The urge to rip off my bra at the end of the day has disappeared. That’s what the ThirdLove T-shirt bra has given me — a happy ending after years of scratchy underwires, droopy cups and flimsy straps. You’re my lobster, ThirdLove. I’m never letting go.

Maybe I’m coming on too strong. But when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. We both know that’s what Harry said to Sally on that cheesy New Year’s Eve. But it’s true. You are the Coach Taylor to my Tami, the Uncle Phil to my Aunt Viv, the Danny to my Mindy (before he got all weird about her ambition). 

This all must sound a bit ridiculous, coming from a grown woman. But don’t forget. I’m also just a girl, standing in front of an online bra company, asking it to love her.

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