Can’t find a bra. What should I use instead?
Don’t say go braless; that’s great advice.
The whole point of bras is to counteract long-term boob-sagging, isn’t it? At least one of the goals? (Yes, loads of others, keeping them from swinging miles each step and taking neighbours’ eyes out, etc). But one thing at a time yo. So why not do handstands everywhere? Spend exactly half of your waking hours wobbling everywhere on your hands, upside-down, and the other half walking regularly. That way you’ll cancel everything out.
Some folk deem hours of handstands exasperating and impracticable. If that’s you, then here’s a variant: you know that handheld puzzle-game Tilt Maze? Or Labyrinth? It’s a square maze containing a marble or a ball-bearing, and you physically tilt and slope the maze to roll its ball around, traverse its internal paths, and avoid the inevitable ball traps. It requires much delicate finesse, and keeping the maze surface as horizontal as possible.
So do the same with your nipples. Continually angle and pivot your torso and ribcage such that your boobs remain exactly above and vertical, and your nipples point skyward. Now, most shrewd and seasoned breast-owners will retort that ladies ain’t Lego. They lack incredibly flat and cuboid torsos. Those ladies sporting more conventional rounded ribcages may achieve the above with just one boob or just the other, but surely not both.
Excellent point, says I, so you’ll need to adjust your local gravity gradients such that both boobs’ Down-directions point to the centre of your chest, and perhaps intersect at your heart or oesophagus. Ever considered deep-throating a black hole? That’d provide the requisite gravity wonderfully. A bit of physics-ing informs me that producing gravity of 1g from, let’s say, a 5cm distance, requires a black hole mass of 3.67x108 kg, or 367,000 tons, so dieters beware. It’d also produce Hawking radiation of 2.64 petawatts, or 100 times the energy consumption of the entire human race, so you’ll get a bit toasty.
If literally outshining the entire human race doesn’t tickle your fancy, then you could always suspend yourself above a huge vat of liquid nitrogen, Mission-Impossible-style, and dip in only your boobs. They’ll freeze solid and stay in place as long as you like, with zero flop or sag. Yes you’ll have horrific frostbite forever, but all fashion is at least slightly agonising, right? Isn’t that the whole point of fashion? If you’re in unbearable agony, then that’s how you know your fashion choices are a smash hit.
If none of these appeal to you? Well, Ms. Prissy Fussyboots, then simply unleash a hideous psyops campaign against all midwives, new mothers, and other proponents of breastfeeding: you know what’s even more nourishing for your protobeloved than breast milk? Helium, that’s what! Babies adore it. They can’t get enough. Nothing promotes strong healthy tot-growth like ambrosia-plasma of the stars, yumyumyum. Hilarious squeaky baby-laughter is just a gnarly bonus. Persuade all ladies of fashion, substance and elegance that getting boob jobs that let you lactate helium is the hottest new smash hit from the catwalks of Milan. Then everyone’s lighter-than-air boobs will levitate and bob about on their own, and you’ll preside over the pulverised corpse of the global bra industry. Problem solved.