I couldn't be bothered to put on pants today to leave the house.
I don't mean I went out buck-assed naked on the bottom half, I just couldn't be bothered to put on ACTUAL pants to leave the house today. Nor a bra.
I was just going to pick my nephew up from school and knew I was not getting out of my car (unless it somehow exploded into flames or something), so I think I am still safe. When I start walking around in public wearing pajama pants and an old shirt with no bra, it is probably time for medication.
Although, one time, when I was in college, I decided that I would wear my flannel pajama top with a pair of jeans because it was cold out and I thought the top was cute. I ended up at the health clinic and a lovely, but very concerned doctor tried to diagnose me with depression. I assured him I had a raging case of weirdness, but that I had not giving up on life because I made ill-advised fashion choices.
It's the bra, really. As long as someone who needs it is wearing a bra or some sort of chestal support with non-sexy clothing , I am willing to believe that they still have some sort of hold on their sanity. As long as the bra is worn as prescribed, of course. It doesn't count if it is on the outside of their clothes, or on their head. And even that can be argued for the sake of fashion, I suppose. I really don't know how to gauge it for people who don't need bras. Not brushing their hair? Wearing sweatpants to work when their job does not involve working out in cold climates? Am I just describing hipsters now?