Admit that I wear a training bra

“Give me back my training bra,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?” Alicia asked, turning her ear towards me.

“Give me back my TRAINING BRA!” I snapped.

Alicia blinked. “Training bra?” She looked at my bra with confusion. “I thought you were at least a Double A.”

I didn’t think it was possible for my face to get any hotter, but it did. I could’ve used any cup size in the world (or, at least, the A categories), but I had to admit to one of the most embarrassing things for a girl to admit.

“Can you just give it back, already?”

“Sure.” Alicia balled up my training bra and threw it to me.

I raised my hands to catch, but it was fruitless. The training bra flew over me and fell into the laundry machine, soaking up the water and suds.

“NO!” I shouted, running to the machine and looking inside. It was too late. If I pulled my training bra out now, it would be entirely see-through.

“Oof!” Alicia said, walking up behind me. She twirled her C-cup around on one finger. “Too bad!”

Easy for her to say! She wasn’t the nearly naked, flat chested girl!

I stared at all my soaking clothes, thinking over what to do.

Every other week it was the same thing. A series of bad choices and horrible coincidences kept leaving me naked. And here I was, down to my last article of clothing once again!

“Um, Erica?” Alicia asked.

I forgot where I was for a moment as my mind fantasized over all the exhibitionist directions my day could go now. Do I hide here for the day? Do I try and sneak home in a trash can?

“Erica,” Alicia said, more forcefully.

Or was I going to get ambushed by all my college friends. I’d have to cover my face as they take pictures of me and my embarrassing panties.

“Erica!” Alicia shook my shoulder.

I blinked as I returned to reality.

“What?”