This is absolutely the silliest thing I've seen yet. I no longer wear the things, since I no longer have anything to put in them, but back in the day, at a hefty 36C, I found them more annoying and confining than anything. I never liked them, and would go without when possible, such as when wearing a sweatshirt.
Just to illustrate how brain-washed we women are, I spent several years, a lot of money and effort and endured a lot of frustration after my surgeries, trying to fake a "chest". First it was just one, in which case I had no choice, obviously. One can't run around one-sided, though I did, at least at home. That was a real bother, over a period of more than twenty years. The fakes never matched up with the real one, and they were heavy, hot and expensive, as much as $300 each. Also, they required constant readjusting. Miserable.
Then several years ago, when the remaining one was removed, I thought I'd find it easier to match up since both were fake, and could go smaller and lighter, with little bags of fluff instead of the heavy silicone things. etc. Well, it didn't work too well. The surgeries weren't identical, so what works on one side doesn't work on the other. "Small and light" is a pipe dream, too. I quickly found that weight helps a lot in keeping things in place, while "light" tends to migrate to astonishing locations. However, weight soon digs the straps into one's shoulders and becomes very uncomfortable. Also, if a heavy fake did manage to escape its holder, it would drop to the floor with a thud. That wouldn't be cool.
A regular bra refuses to stay in place, and is constantly riding up. You must remember, there is no longer anything there to hold it in place. (Those men in the "man bras" are going to have the same problem.) Oh, the specialty shops offer all sorts of contraptions - I call them industrial strength bras. They're equipped with all manner of straps and pulleys, and have snaps, hooks, velcro and laces. There are sewn-in pockets to keep the heavyweights from falling out. For the problem of "riding up", they have a three-inch wide band with a rubberized layer next to your skin, and the whole thing is fitted so tightly that breathing becomes your highest priority and you forget all about the weight of the straps on your shoulders. Naturally, that rubberized part quickly becomes hot and irritating, and blisters are a distinct possibility.
These things wear on one's patience at times, and once in a while, I confess I think "why me?" I don't tarry long at that place, though. Cancer happens, and for some, the outcome is not good. When it happened to me, I was one of the blessed ones. Even though the first one was in a fairly advanced stage, through the hands of a good surgeon, the skill of a good oncologist during a year of treatment, and most of all, the blessings of a loving God in response to the prayers of a whole lot of family and friends, I am now thirty years down the road from that original cancer, with no recurrence. The second one was an incidental, a new occurrence caught in a microscopic stage after an elective surgery done to try to simplify the prosthetic situation. We didn't even know it was there until after the surgery, and Pathology found it. No treatment was needed. Again, God was good. That forces me to ask again, from a different perspective, "why me?"
After that second surgery, I struggled for a few months with this bra and that one, this prosthesis and that, even tried birdseed in a nylon stocking tied to make a small bag (suggested by a friend who knows a female impersonator and that's what he uses!) My birdseed promptly got ants in it, so that didn't work too well.
Believe me, I've tried everything. So, one day as I was pinning, and nipping and tucking, adjusting and sweating, it hit me. Why on earth am I putting myself through this?? I've done nothing wrong, committed no crime or sin, I simply got breast cancer. No fault of mine, I was a random victim. It happens. I am not required to punish myself because of it. I pulled off whatever annoying thing I was working with at the time, stuck it in a drawer, and there it remains, with all the other relics of my attempts to look like I once did. (I threw the birdseed out to the birds, ants and all.)
For now, I'll continue to do as I've done for the past six years or so. Go without. So sue me. I have no gripe, no complaint, no whine. I have only gratitude that I've been given these last thirty years, and with God's approval perhaps a few more. Without those years, I probably would have seen only two of my ten grandchildren, and perhaps only one, if the disease had moved rapidly. If I look a little funny, I really don't care. Well, that's not entirely true. I do care, a little bit, but not enough to make me put up with the discomfort and inconvenience of trying to simulate what is no longer there. Okay, that's not completely true, either. I do have this new bra, which shows a bit of promise, but I don't care enough to make trying it out a priority. I've had it for two weeks and haven't worn it yet.
Now, to speak to the original point of this whole thing - who on earth do the makers of those "man bras" think they're kidding? And who do the wearers think they're fooling? “They’re not interested in cross-dressing, they just find wearing a bra relaxes them.” Oh, please. Give me a break. Come on, girls - just how "relaxed" does your bra make you feel? What's the first garment you shed when you get home, after you get your blouse off? Right! Please don't try to convince me that there's anything remotely "relaxing" about wearing a bra! That dog won't hunt, it really won't.
Apparently this phenomenon originated in Japan. I suppose the men will be mincing around in kimonos next, wearing big black wigs with knitting needles stuck in them, and trying to convince the world that they feel "more relaxed." Come on, Japan, admit it. You've got the same problems we have, yours are just still in the closet. Sorry, but all the well-worded advertising hype in the world isn't going to hide the truth.
A woman with two mastectomies is never going to look perfectly natural, and a man wearing a bra is never going to look relaxed. It's a law of nature, like gravity. And as we all know, it's not nice to fool Mother Nature.