An Anti-Inspirational Blog Post


Ron Swanson, the greatest anti-inspiring person ever aka my spirit animal - marry me Swanson!

As I scroll through all my pointless, irrelevant, trivial, aimless, futile and meaningless social media feeds, I am often inundated with positive meme's, you-can-do-it attitudes and syrupy affirmations about life. Some days I nod my head in agreement, and others I want to round up all that positivity and the people that spew it and sling shot them all to the fiery depths of Walmart aisle 5 at 12:14 am on Black Friday in Muncie, Indiana.

Today is one of those days.

There are enough inspirational assholes out there. Between them and grammar snobs, it's hard to feel up to par with the rest of society. So I figure it's high time to write something a little, shall we say, not so inspirational for the rest of us.

Aka, the best of us.

- Let's lead off hard with the most obvious and annoying inspirational folks of them all: the braggart. I wrote an entire post on these specimens here but figured they deserve another mention, because can you just put a sock in it already!? Showing off your mansion and all your money doesn't inspire anyone. Actually, that's not true. It inspires me to like you even less than I already do.

- The girl power squad of "women can do it all, women are powerful, women are amazing, women rule the world, etc." I mean, everyone already knows we rule the world. Duh, we have boobs. But the overemphasis of it all is cringeworthy. And sometimes, the enthusiasm can be downright dangerous. One of the worst pieces of advice I have ever heard in my life is, "Don't look for a man to save you. Be able to save yourself." Ok man-hater, have you ever been hanging off the edge of a cliff seconds from death, only to have a *gasp* man reach out his hand to save you? Yes, I said save you. If you lived life by your advice, you would hang there until you eventually fell and died. But hey, at least you did it all by yourself! Woman power! Oh, and the next time I hear someone say, "I did everything he did, but backwards and in high heels" I'm gonna say prove it. No, right now, do that one handed layup off the backboard that you just saw him do, but you know, backwards and in high heels. Either do it now, or get out of here with that inspirational but totally inaccurate drivel. 

- "If you can dream it, you can do it." Um, actually, that's totally not true. Seriously, why all the inspirational lies? I've been dreaming about being a Calvin Klein underwear model, or Britney Spears' tour manager, or a professional Grey Goose vodka taste tester for years now and I've never been not closer to any of those dreams in my life. My husband has been dreaming for a wife that regularly doesn't overspend and underperform and well, my point is that not all dreams come true. In fact, if we're being honest here, most never will. One or two might squeak through the cracks, but life is hard, and then you die.

- Social media has created a mass amount of #goals no one knew they were lacking. Like the girlfriend who constantly hashtags #boyfriendgoals when everyone and little Susie down the block knows he flirts with everything that walks and makes you go dutch on your #goalworthy date nights. The chick who hashtags #hairgoals when she painfully obviously wears fake extensions. The mom who has three nannies and hashtags herself #momgoals (L O freaking L). And then of course we have #squadgoals that everyone and their posse posts. I hate to break it to you, but if it ain't a trio of Britney Spears, Ron Swanson and Billy Bob Thornton, your #squadgoals are busted.

- Speaking of hashtags, this one deserves it's own bullet point. I'm talking about those who post a selfie of their mug with #nofilter when obviously and I mean so obviously they are using a filter! Newsflash! Even if you pull a photo from Snapchat (where you so obviously used a filter) and then post it to Instagram and don't use a filter, it is still a filtered photo!! That's like me drinking five vodka soda's at Applebee's and then moving on down to Red Robin and sidling up to the bar and telling the bartender, "I haven't had anything to drink here yet! Give me my first vodka soda." Truth, but mostly just lies.

- Then we have those people who are experts on life and try to tell you how to live it. Every time I see their status update on Facebook I think, "oh for f*cks sake, here we go again." Yes, please do tell me how much sugar is in that soda and how many pus pockets are in my steak, you life ruiner. Also, I pinky promise that if I need to know how to get pregnant, what to eat while I am pregnant, what not to do while I am pregnant and how many times I shouldn't be doing it while pregnant, what doctor approved medicines to definitely not take while pregnant and which position is best to birth out a baby from my honey pot, I will ask. Did you get that? I. Will. Ask.

- Can't leave out the gym rat #inspos, oops I mean #fitspos (eye roll). Let's just say there are more phones at the gym taking selfies these days than actual people working out, and yeah yeah you're on a health journey and have already lost twelve pounds and I'd probably take that selfie too if I looked like that but I don't and truth be told I prefer my burpies come from eating too many doughnuts instead of those God-awful exercise thingamajigs but that's neither here nor there. Do you think "checking in" at the gym on Facebook is going to inspire anyone to give up Ding Dongs? Girl please. But my favorite, and I mean my absolute hands down indisputable favorite are the #sobrave posters whom obviously have no body fat whatsoever but post photos of themselves bent over with the quote, "everyone has rolls when they bend over." Well no shit Sherlock that's just basic gravity but I have rolls when I'm stick straight upright frigid in the middle of winter! I might have an ounce of sympathy for you if you walked around like the Hunchback all the time but you don't. Because that's not how people walk. And that photo of your "roll" isn't how you really look. Thank you though for trying to "stand in solidarity" with us fat folks, I guess.

Now go flex yourself.

Just love.


My kids and I say a morning prayer every single day on our way to school.

It goes like this:

Dear Jesus, thank you for this beautiful day. Thank you for Gunner and Colt and for their unique special gifts. I pray that they have a very good day at school, that they listen to their teachers, that they pay attention and that they learn a lot of cool stuff. I pray that they are a light in the dark, that they are always kind and loving and that their love for you shines through. There is nothing more important than being kind and loving, and by doing so, Gunner and Colt could change someone's entire day. I pray that my kids are always the ones who look for someone sitting alone, being excluded, or having a sad day, and that they always go up to that person and ask them to play, talk to them and say something nice to help them feel better. It's so important to help those who are hurting. We love you and give you all the glory, amen.

Every day, in the car on the way to school, those words.

I look in the rearview and see them sitting with their eyes closed and hands folded. They know the importance and power of those words. Of everything I want to teach my kids, being kind and loving is at the tip top of it all.

I don't stress good grades. I never have, and I never will. It just isn't that important to me. I do stress not getting all fails and falling short because of laziness, because, well, that's just outright offensive negligence. But the first thing I say to them when they get in the car after picking them up from school is never, "what grade did you get on that test?" It's always, "how was your day? Were there any kind and loving moments you want to tell me about?" I want them to learn and have fun and do good...but nothing is more important — and I can't even stress how much more important it is — than to be loving and kind. To sit with those sitting alone. To always include everyone. To never ever purposefully exclude another kid at school or make someone feel unwelcome.

My kids know that we don't call people ugly. We don't call people fat. We don't make fun and we don't put others down. It happens every now and then, they are human (and brothers, and we all know brothers can be brutal to each other) but I always sit and talk with them and ask them how they would feel if someone hurt their feelings. I never want my kids to have an elevated sense of self where they think they are better than their peers, and I know it will happen, I know there will be that kid who is ostracized and made fun of for some ridiculous reason (looks, weight, disability) and I am always prepping my kids for that moment, so when they come face-to-face with unfair cruelty, they enter it with open arms and a huge, strong, warm loving heart. I always want them to know, what right do they have to treat someone poorly just because they look different on the outside?

And it's a hard, uphill battle. I know the things they learn at school from other kids. I hear things that kids in school these days say. So yes, it's hard, but yes, it's so important. In fact, it's the most important.

The kids and I go through their toys and clothes often, giving things to Goodwill or the mission that we don't need/use anymore (don't get me started on people selling their unwanted childrens things on Craigslist. I've never understood it and I never will. Why re-sell it to gain profit instead of donating it all to the many kids in need? Because there are so, so, so many. Too many.) I always talk to them about why we do it, how there are so many kids out there who don't have nearly what my kids do, and how it's so very important to give to those who have less. The other day, Gunner came into my office and said, "mom come here, I want to show you something," took me upstairs and proudly showed me the two plastic crates he had overfilling with toys/blankets/costumes of his. He did it all on his own, and on the way to the donation center, he talked on and on about how happy he was that other kids would get to have and play with his toys.

And that makes me so happy. I can never do enough when it comes to teaching my kids that lesson - that yes, we are most definitely blessed, and we must always give what we can, and sometimes more,  a lot of the times more, because helping others is what life is about.

We see people standing on the road often, holding signs asking for anything to help, and my kids have always been very inquisitive — why are they standing there? what does their sign say? why do they want money? — and I explain to them that some people are so lonely and sad and hurt that they can't get a job, they can't support themselves, they can't carry on anymore. I explain to them how as a mom, I love them so incredibly much, and how I don't know what I would do if something ever happened to them. And then I tell them that maybe that woman standing there lost a child, and it devastated her so much that she just couldn't get up and out of bed in the mornings. Maybe that man lost everything he had in his life and lost the will to try, and yes, maybe it was due to his own diligence but does it really matter? Maybe he really isn't a former Vietnam vet and he's trying to play on the emotions of others, but really, does it matter?? While the truth is that yes, sometimes those people standing there are being deceitful and fraudulent, in situations like this, does it really matter?? Because something had to have happened to defeat a man to standing there on a street corner holding a sign. Something had to have gone incredibly wrong at some turn in his life, and he has resolved his self worth to begging on a street corner. I can't imagine what it would take to beat a human down so low. What I can imagine is how showing love and tenderness can never, ever hurt. 

And besides, isn't it better to err on the side of kindness than judgement?

There many things I want, and don't want, for my kids.

I don't want my kids preoccupied with being the best one on the team. You will never hear me say to my kids, "you are the best player on the team!" And if they ever say it about themselves, I will let them in on one very important life lesson...the best ones never have to say they are the best. More importantly, "the best" only know they are "the best" because they have the backing and support of their team, otherwise "the best" wouldn't be so great at all.

I don't want my kids to worry about being friends with the "popular crowd" (major air quote around that term). Those kids have enough friends anyway. I want them to befriend the misfits, and I use that term endearingly because I f*cking love the misfits. Besides, they are the ones that are going to be world changers one day. 

I want my kids to walk with the broken. To sit next to the outcast. To include the prodigal. To lift up the down-and-out.

To love the unloveable. 

I know their hearts will break again and again, but that is a price you pay for feeling empathy for others. I also know their hearts will love and hopefully receive love to the highest levels of heaven, because that's a price you gain for feeling empathy for others.

Besides, a wise man once said...

"and the greatest of these is love."

So just love.

Please Kid, Don't Ask Me For The Latest and Greatest. (Cause You Ain't Getting It)


tree swing, the original spinner

My oldest got off the bus the other day and immediately asked for a fidget spinner. Like, can we go to the store right now no right right now and get one please.

A huh? A what? A who?

"A fidget spinner, mom," he said. "All the kids have one."

I knew it. I knew there was a reason I didn't let him ride the bus. Along with coming home and demanding a thingermajiggy, he had also learned what holding up his middle finger means and that although seemingly impossible, worms can actually make babies.

Filthy animals. The after school bus is just chalk full of filthy animals.

(Slight exaggeration on my part. I do occasionally make my kids ride the bus when I'm feeling extra evil. Still might be slightly exaggerating but you get my point. Also, read this! I about had a heart attack. Ok, I think I really meant the filthy animal thing.)


One thing is for sure: I will not be buying my kids a damn fidget spinner.

Part of it is my rebellious nature to not jump on every bandwagon out the gate (in my defense, I was given the uber trendy Starbucks Unicorn Frapp from a friend when she came to visit, otherwise I would never have taken part in such a vile act) and the other part is my deep-seated belief that I must instill in my kids the notion that they do not get everything they want in life, just because "everyone else has one."

Especially because "everyone else has one."

I don't have anything particular against these fidget spinners. They look cool enough, I'm sure they do help some kids concentrate (do they?) and it's just another trendy toy at the moment. "Trendy," "toy," and "at the moment" being the operative words.

I'm sure my kids do want one. My kids want everything. And of course we could go out and buy them one but what does that accomplish? And yes, I do buy my kids toys. I have fallen victim to the whiny "can I have it please can I have it please please please" at the final hour standing in the checkout line. I'm not proud of those moments, but I'm a human mother and not perfect by any means. (I would like it to be stated for the record that these events do not happen often, but for the sake of camaraderie, I admit it has once or twice before.)

And I understand that it's hard to say no to the latest greatest thing our child wants. Actually, that's a lie. It sounded good and that's why I said it but I can't just flat-out lie for the camaraderie. Because the truth is, I don't think it's hard to tell them no. I don't think it's mean to not give them what they want and I am almost certain that I don't even have to capacity to feel guilty for not giving in and buying my kids the most current crap product out there.

I know I go on and on about my kids not having iPhones, about them not having an Xbox or Playstation or fidget spinners, but it's only because it is something I am so compassionate about. I am teaching them how to one day live in the world, and I want them to do just that — actually live in the world, not let the world live in them.

Because just as everyone knows, "things" don't make us happy. Instagram, Facebook and Twitter might beg to differ, but darling, Instagram, Facebook and Twitter are all fake.

One thousand percent fake. The more and more I scroll through my feed, the more and more I get thisclose to deleting the apps all together. I haven't yet, and I know that is because the vicious pull of popular social media is still gripping at me, but I'm working on it. I'm working on it, alright? (This topic is a whole different blog post, which is most definitely coming to a blog near you soon.)

It is harder and it does take more energy to get your kids outside expending energy than letting them plop in front of the TV to watch hours of mind-numbing brainless junk so I get it, I get it...why things like spinners are so popular and why millions of parents are buying them. It's the world we live in, but I refuse to let it be the world my kids live in.

And just starts getting a lot less hard if you stick with it. My oldest did get right off the sin-mobile and immediately ask me for the fidget spinner, but I said no and he asked one more time and I said no again (this time with more oomph, let's say) and he hasn't asked me again since. He knows I meant it, and besides, he came home and started playing with the new tree swing that his dad had hung up while he was at school, and the fidget spinner was a thing of the past.

Rubber tire tree swing: practically free, keeps the kids entertained outdoors and no batteries needed. (Take that you wicked toy marketer people.)

Bare bones parenting. Is it a thing? If so, I want to join. I think it would be made up of rubber tire swings, grass stains, melting popsicles, bike tires, skinned knees, barefoot feet, happiness, dirty hands, dirty toes, full bellies and pure hearts.

Does This Bragging Make Me Look Preposterous?


via Pinterest

With the rise in social media, it's so easy to put whatever it is that you want out there. There are many positives to this, such as spreading the word on great charities, re-posting helpful marriage advice articles and of course, the meme's.

It's great for sharing our day to day life, documenting the first lawn mow of the year or the amazing meal we just made from Pinterest. It's a good tool to keep grandparents up on the doings on their grandchildren and also to tag your husband in whenever you come across a DIY project that needs to happen, like STAT. It's fun to share photos of friends that we haven't seen in forever and to document exciting events like concerts and weddings. Social media, in and of itself, isn't a bad thing. It's when people use it for inadequate purposes that gives it that negative aura. 

Take for instance, bragging. Also known as: showing off, boasting, gloating, crowing, showboating. 

Also known as: no one cares.

Yeah, I see your new Mercedes on Facebook. I'll raise you one paid off ten-year-old SUV that still looks pretty good, if I do say so myself. What's that? You bought the whole line of Armani over the weekend? That's nice, I hope it all stays in style. Just the other day, I got a new purse also...the cutest canvas style tote that holds all my stuff and is totally my vibe. Forty eight bucks. I got it at a store that also sells couches, which may seem weird to you, but I kinda like that off-shoot stuff. Not everyone has it, you know? 

And yes, I did see your pricey designer shoes. How could I possibly miss them!? Sillygoose, you only posted a photo of yourself wearing them — sole side out! — 39 and a half times. And tagged the designer on every social media platform. And mentioned them in your theatrical detailed caption. We get it. You have feet that need to be covered. We now also get that you are a gasbag braggart. 

Profound bragging is just so obscene and gross to me. Especially when there are so many people in need, so many people in the world who don't even know what they will do for their next meal. So much struggle and pain and poverty that some people (definitely not you!) have to endure and deal with every day. And yet, there you go boasting about how much money your hideous designer chandelier cost. I can't tell you the animosity I feel when I scroll through my social media feed and see a post about St. Jude's hospital, and the very next one is from some chick showing me her new Tiffany's jewelry purchase. Bragging isn't cool. It's narrow-minded and unoriginal. And it's just in such poor taste.

It's funny. Those who have worked from the bottom up are usually never flamboyant with their wealth. Some of the richest people I know wouldn't dream of instagramming their car emblem. Some of the even richer people I know are so low-key about it, you'd never guess they were loaded. What's more, they are some of the most fun, interesting and real people I know.

I'm not saying people shouldn't enjoy their wealth, not at all. That is part of The American Dream — making a good living, working hard, enjoying nice things. And shoot, I wouldn't turn down a hundie if offered to me. We all love to be able to take a nice vacation every once in a while, and splurging isn't a sin. I love a quality pair of leather boots just like the next person, but I spend the money on them because of the comfort and sustainability, not so I can showboat and toot my horn. (And can someone please tell me why Uggs are so looked down upon? I constantly get made fun of for my Ugg love — mainly from my nonjudgmental family — but I am Uggs-and-Bikinis all the way, ride or die.)

It's fine to own luxury handbags, and it's fine to be photographed with your expensive purse if you happen to be carrying it the second someone asks to snap a pic. But if you're showing me the coffee you just ordered, there's really no need to "discreetly" place that overpriced LV conspicuously in the same frame. Why not just show me your coffee? Which, if we're being honest, what you are really going for here is pretending to show me your coffee and maybe the manicure you got today but bam! diamond ring, front and center. 

Motives. Everyone sees right through 'em.

Boasting about your weekly maid that comes and cleans your house is just so, so very uninteresting. Literally. It's about as interesting to me as all the in-utero fruit-sized babies that grace my Facebook feed. Show me how you work your ass off, volunteer at your child's school, make a house a home and know how to mow a lawn. Now I'm impressed.

It's exhausting playing the game of keep up and show and tell. I was at a dinner once where someone mentioned a vacation they had just gotten back from. Someone else at the table piped in with a lavish vacation that they had just taken last month. And I kid you not, then someone entirely else told us of how he is going on a vacation for three weeks "just because he can." It went back and forth and forth and back with these three people and then a few more joined in and everyone was trying to state their case that their vacation spot was the most extravagant and otherworldly and the one-upping that was going on just about did me in for humanity.

One-upping. Also known as: no one cares.

I mentioned that my family likes to go camping during the summer and you should have seen the looks of pity thrown my way. (I would like to also mention that I don't attend those kind of dinners anymore. I prefer to eat my food sans the salty taste of over-inflated pride, thank you.)

It's like the time Rob and I went to Vegas one year and stayed in one of the nicest hotels on the strip (see here). It was a blast, we felt like high fliers and we had the time of our lives. Things change however, and the next time we were able to make it to Vegas, we ended up staying in probably one of the cheapest most beat down hotels on the strip (see here). It was still a blast, we still felt like high fliers and we still had the time of our lives. Because it didn't matter to us where we stayed, how much our room was, or how many stars our hotel was rated. We had a real good time with real good people and the same real hot sun shined upon us all

Keeping up with the Joneses? Ppsssshh. More like schlepping it with the Smiths. It's so much more fun, believe you me.

Look. Having nice things obviously doesn't make someone a bad person. But if those things define you, then I'd say you've got a problem. If you feel the need to show off and grandstand with all your stuffs...well then, you have fun with that.

I'll just be over here in my camping chair. With true friends, a warm bonfire and worn-out Uggs.

You know, in the real lap of luxury. *wink

The Case Against Bras


via Pinterest

I wrote earlier this week regarding The Case Against Homework and The Case Against Electronics that I figured I should also write about the case against something just as — and maybe even more so — crucial: for the love of all things, can we just get rid of these metal contraption boob crushers!?

I'm talking about The Case Against Bras.

I don't know why I'm so passionate about the subject but dammit, I am. (Probably because I have boobs and don't like being told how to harness them. Let's run with that.)

Look, I'm all for women making their own decisions. If it makes you happy to wear a bra with hardware sewn in then by all means, rock on. I'm not here to tell women what to do or wear, I'm here to announce that I won't be letting anyone else tell me what to do or wear!

Specifically, the bra. Also know as chest chokers, mammary muzzles, over-the-shoulder boulder holders and a plethora of other stupid names probably created by men. (Full disclosure: I love men. I'm also not here to downgrade their worth. But just as all men and women are not created equal, neither are all men, which we will get into in a moment.)

Real talk. Bras are uncomfy as they come. 

Not only are they annoying and ill-fitting, but they have the potential for some serious chafing. There is a reason why the various meme's of "the best feeling in the world is taking off your bra at the end of the day" are so popular and get re-posted over and over again: it's because it really is the best feeling in the world! The feeling of taking off one's bra at the end of the day evokes such a strong reaction in us women that it has become a major daily triumph. Something we look forward to and desperately yearn for. But why should we have to go through pain just to get to such pleasure? I understand the sentiment "pain before pleasure" when it comes to sports dedication or intense schooling or birthing a baby for crying out loud: some things we must simply endure in order to come out the other side of bliss, but our boobies? Our soft, sensitive, precious boobies? 

Pain and boobs should not a partnership make.

And marketing companies aren't stupid, they know how to hook women into buying multiples of these torture devices by compartmentalizing their "many uses." You can't just have a regular bra, you also need a "t-shirt" bra and a "strapless" bra and a "halter" bra and a "racerback" bra and a "multi-use" bra and a "sexy time" bra - nursing, padded, plunge, push-up, adhesive and stick-on bras, oh my!

Our pain = their gain.

Not to mention, there have been many, many articles written on how bras can actually hinder our health! If that's not reason enough to go braless, I don't know what is. And back to the vanity aspect of wanting to look our best, science has proven that not wearing a bra actually helps our boobs not to sag. According to a study, scientists have found that not wearing a bra actually protects your breasts from gravity. This is because it forces women to have better posture and it also forces the body to develop the muscles that lie underneath the breasts, which aid breast support and lift. (Also see: 9 Amazing Things That Happen When You Stop Wearing A Bra.)

I say it's time we take our boobs back into our own hands! (Literally, don't forget to self-check our breasts on the regular ladies!) They belong to us and we should treat them with respect. 

Speaking of respect...

Now that we've covered banning bras in the name of comfort and health, what then do we do about the social stigma of it all? Even after all my convincing, I doubt most women are going to walk into a job interview sans bra. (Unless the job interviewer is a man, then let's be honest, you will probably get the job. I don't know about you, but I'd call that a win-win.) The headlines are always the same: "Braless Jennifer Anniston out on the town!" "Chrissy Teigen At Dinner Without A Bra!" "Judge Judy Presided In Court Today With Exposed Nipples!" I mean, how is this even actual news?! People still, in this day and age, get hot and bothered by seeing a woman breastfeed! 

But it is. It's news because still, people are afraid of the breast. People are offended by seeing the mere outline of one of our most natural body parts. People are apprehensive and can be downright defensive about the notion of going braless. 

And by people, I'm mostly referring to insecure women.

Sorry. I didn't want to go there, I really didn't, but I can't gloss over the fact that it's mostly women who have such a problem with the anti-bra movement. Men sure don't give a crap (clearly) and there can't possibly be any other plausible reason besides insecurity when it comes to other women giving any consideration to the state of my unrestricted boobs. 

So what if it makes you uncomfortable that your man is staring at my boobs! You know what makes me uncomfortable? Your man staring at my boobs!!


And I get it, men are visual creatures, they just are. I'm not trying to take away their God-given right to ogle pretty little things, but do some of ya'll gotta rubberneck it so hard? And just in case no one has told you yet, you won't stand a chance with that exposed bosom you covet so badly when you gawk like a muttonhead. (Here is where we circle back to "not all men are equal." I know not all of you guys are crude, lewd, eyeball challenged people — most of the men I know are respectful and sure, may take a quick peek but they definitely don't let their eyes linger there like they've never come in contact with one before. Grow up and act like you've seen a pair before, it's attractive.)  

I promise you that I'm not going braless to lure your man in. I'm sure most other women aren't either. Sure, there are some hookers out there with the sole intention of dressing in a way to nab themselves a treat, whether taken or not, but those animals are in a whole different category of debris. Most women, most decent women who choose to go braless are doing so purely because honey, it just feels good

Look. I'm not at all advocating for the total baring of boobs. I'm all for being classy and modest (except when I'm not) and protecting our self-worth by respecting our bodies. I certainly don't think self-proclaimed flaming feminists who shove their bare boobs in our faces and who use them as a juggling act in public is empowering to women whatsoever. It's not. Behaving in that manner is vulgar and tasteless and does absolutely nothing to legitimize the imperative value of women.

What I am advocating for is simple comfort when it comes to our boobs. That and lowering the stigma of going braless. That's all. Comfort looks different for every women, and if it makes you uncomfortable going without, they make some super cute soft bralettes that don't contain any materials that would set off a metal detector. 

And as I said earlier, if wearing a wire in your bra is the most comfortable for you, no judgement here.

I'm just asking that you do the same.