I tried to defend why I had to wear such bras, hating having to explain to him that they are necessary and normal for girls my age (at that time) to wear, not wanting to point out to him how mildly padded bra cups are necessary for newly developing breasts to not be very noticeable underneath t-shirts. The discussion moved to the kitchen table to become a lengthy lecture that included Angie. He told me he expected me to throw out all my padded bras and get thin ones like Angie’s. It disturbed me SO MUCH to watch him touching and inspecting one of my bras from the wash he had dug through the laundry to find.
Then he had Angie bring one of her unpadded bras to the table, and compared our two bras at length, which was mortifying and made me severely uncomfortable.
I felt so disgusted and violated when I was forced to watch him grab the cups of my bras and Angie’s, too. I was even more traumatized when he made me touch and feel Angie’s bra to see what kind of bra material he wished me to start wearing. Why did he care about my bras? The look in his eyes as he touched my bra and hers made my skin crawl.
This can't be normal behavior for a father to engage in with his pubescent daughter. It did not feel right then and it still doesn't seem right as I think back on the incident. I feel like my undergarments should be my own business, and that my father should not be touching my bras at all. Furthermore, to compare my bras with Angie's is inexcusable and disturbing on many levels.
A major detail that needed to be involved in this: the 'padding' he was referring to was hardly anything at all. It wasn't a push-up bra or anything of the sort--I wore bras that HARDLY kept everything from being seen. So the fact that he was telling me I was making a horrible choice and putting bad thoughts in boys' minds because I was wearing a bra that kept my nipples from being shown was absolutely CRAZY to me. In addition, I feel the need to add that I only owned one bra with any kind of pattern or coloring on it; the rest were plain and/or white. Because my dad would go through my drawers (including underwear drawer) often, I felt uncomfortable buying any patterned bras in fear that he would also find a way to lecture me about that.
After this incident, I hid in the bathroom across from my bedroom and cried. I felt so violated... it was as if nothing was private. Since this took place within the first six months of living with my father, I was terrified at what would come of the rest of my teenage years. The physical and emotional discomfort and disgust I felt in that moment is too deep to express here. The next morning, I told my girl friends at school about what happened. It was so traumatizing that I was having a difficult time holding back tears as I told them. My friends validated the fact that we NEEDED to wear bras with at least a little padding, and that my dad's insistence on what kind of bras I had to wear so boys wouldn't 'think bad thoughts' was insane and extremely creepy.
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