I am reminded of the media reaction to a Request for Proposals from the Clothe the Soldier project at National Defence Headquarters that sought bids to supply bras to the Canadian Army. (By the way, facetious Guest above, the original French word is spelt "brassière".)

Within a day, that acquisition was dubbed the Combat Bra, and the usually stolid Canadian defence commentariat launched itself into weeks of sexist yuk-yuks. Would Service Battalion storesmen in Petawawa be supplied with a fitting template, such as is provided for fitting respirators? Would the Combat Bra come in woodland disruptive pattern only, or would an Arctic version be made available? Would there be a premium, lace-trimmed version for wear with mess dress? And so on, ad nauseam.

Finally, the Clothe the Soldier people gave up on the acquisition and Canada's female soldiers got blanket permission to buy their own damned underwear, as they always had. Of course, men can get sturdy, quick-drying boxer shorts from the supply system -- Himself wears them, and he says they're great and the price is right. But if you're female, that aspect of military life hasn't changed since my day; before you deploy, make sure you're stocked up.

But there's nothing funny about the problem of finding a bra that will stand up to the conditions a person can encounter when she works in a so-called "non-traditional" setting. I still have a scar on one shoulder from the metal clip on a bra strap that carved a hole through my skin under pressure from a 25-pound rucksack, and a permanent reddish-brown patch on my ribs from the eczema caused by wearing an ill-fitting underwire bra while doing manual labour and vigorous exercise through the heat of summer in central Ontario. Of course, in 1975, there was no such thing as a sports bra.