What’s in your bra?

This post is inspired by too many people and blogs to cite. Too too many to give adequate link-love.

From SHAPE Magazine to my fave Coco there have been an abundance of “whats in your gym bag?” or “whats in your purse?” posts.

And, seeing as Im the consummate misfit, each time I spy one I think:

I dont own a gym bag. I never carry a purse.  I stuff everything in my bra.

And, seeing as Im the consummate misfit, *thats* the post Ive longed to write.

When you see me like this:

Fitbloggin fashion show = hotel room key

Or this:

fashion show rehearsal = key & money

Or spy me sweaty:

gum, keys, debit card.

Theres always a lot more there than meets the proverbial eye.

A lot more which I tend to either use right away (gum for coffee-breath, cash for food, key for key-stuff) or completely forget until I disrobe hours and hours later when I finally shower mere moments after exercising.

mid-fashion show. mid ‘where is my key?!’ panic.

Today’s post was prompted by the cascade o’crap which launched forth yesterday when I de-bra’ed.

paper money.change.a pistachio I couldnt pry open.gum.a gum wrapper.a random red skull bead. yep. bra-detritus.

As I watched the pistachio bounce across the floor I wondered, again, if Im the only woman who consistently has whole tree nuts fall when she disrobes.

And a post was born.

Merely so I can ask you:

Over-share with me.  Normalize for me. What’s in YOUR bra?

PSA: On the remotest chance there is any validity in the cell phone/breast cancer connection I urge you to never, ever tuck your phone in your bra.