Binding

Today I remembered that those who do not learn from the past are doomed to discomfort. After a recent discussion about slouching, and how I hunch my shoulders in order to better hide my chest, I decided to unearth ye old underworks compression shirt and test a hypothesis that more effective binding might cause me to hunch my shoulders less, thus resulting in greater comfort. I forgot, however, how rather miserably uncomfortable the damn thing is to wear for more than an hour at a time, and it's not particularly more effective as a binder, either- my usual habit of wearing two heavy duty sports bras is nearly as effective, particularly with my personal style of layered clothes. So now, with 3hrs and 45 minutes yet to go in the workday, I'm in a pretty uncomfortable state. But of course I can't take the damn thing off- my shirt's too thin. Dammit, why do I do this to myself?
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Oh. right. because it's more important to me to be flat chested than comfortable. Although I'm not sure that's entirely the case, as I'm clearly not doing this to myself every day. I value my ribs- they're the only ones I've got, and they're going to be Eli's forever. Also, while I don't particularly like my breasts, I am somewhat vain about them, in that as long as I have to have them attached to me I'd rather they maintained some modicum of shape and form. Intense binding can really fuck up your breast tissue (break it down, etc) and give you mad saggy floppy breasts. Which in turn makes binding easier, but would not improve my opinion of them in the slightest.
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With any luck, this won't be an issue anymore by the end of the summer. Every time I let myself imagine having surgery in July, I think about being able to wear just muscle tees and a-shirts in August. Anticipation is far too dim a word.