Original draft: July 11, 2015

There’s really nothing that compares to walking through the Upper East Side on a Friday night during peak pregame/happy hour hours while braless in a loose shirt and sweatpants, with a pitbull on one arm and a pug on the other. I mean, there’s a lot of words in that sentence that could contribute to my sticking out like a sore thumb in that neighborhood, and I actually debated with myself for a long time before leaving the apartment dressed as such, but in the end, I realized I didn’t care. I certainly wasn’t trying to impress anyone that night, I wasn’t planning on going out that night so why would I put on real pants, and at the time I was in the midst of the worst of the poison ivy, which made wearing a bra even more unbearable than it normally is.