Who decided that titty-fucking was cool? Did Sinatra used to finish his lowball of whiskey just to take home that dame across the bar for some good ol’ slipping and sliding between a pair of tig ol’ biddies? Initial research (i.e. I did not in any way attempt to research this) has been inconclusive as to Sinatra’s inter-mammary predilections, but this I do know: Everything about titty-fucking is just plain wrong — from its name, to the act itself, to the Google Images result when I type in the term (well, actually, the search results are pretty good).

Think of a bra. Think of the last one you saw, whether it was in your own dresser drawer, on someone else or in the media. What did it look like? What did it offer in terms of feel and appearance? Inspired by a conversation with my friend Allison, I took up this seemingly anachronistic feminist topic by abstaining from bra use for a week. In doing so, I confirmed my suspicion that for the most part, bras are a socially prescribed accessory rather than something women actually need.