Hands (and tweets) off my tits

There's a bra on the market that tweets every time you take it off and is the latest item to join the list of pink, head-scratching products to raise awareness for breast cancer. (A pink head-scratcher? I've got the trademark on that one!) Apparently, it has some gizmo in it that, when unhooked, sends a signal to a cell phone that then communicates with a server which generates a tweet. Since this idea was cooked up in Greece and is sponsored by Nestlé Fitness, its tweets are in Greek and presumably tell you to drink your Ovaltine eat more Nestlé Fitness cereal. It's being worn exclusively for two weeks by a Greek TV star whose mission it is to get women to perform a monthly breast self-exam and presumably to let everyone know when she's taking her clothes off. It's altruistically porny! I don't know what the tweets say since they're literally all Greek to me, but I really hope it's more than just "Heyyy y'all, I'm naked and raising awareness for breast cancer. #Nestlecereal #fitness #titsmcgee #opa #stephanopoulosforprez".

I'm all for a product that will help raise awareness for breast cancer, or any cancer, for that matter. It's a creeper of a killer and a real fucking drag as diseases go. So yeah, fuck cancer and all that. But I fear we might be moving into losing-sight-of-the-goal territory here. It's intrinsically intrusive for a woman to wear an item of clothing that lets her (so far) 2,189 followers know when she's removing it. And I shudder to think what could come of this technology if it landed in the wrong hands. The policing opportunities it gives to abusive partners, overprotective parents, Mormons, corporate conglomerates to ensure customers are advertising their brand at any given moment (I'm looking at you Victoria's Secret) are too scary to consider. Isn't our underwear the last frontier of privacy in a world that is already over-exposed through social media and Snapchat?

Sure, it's pretty funny and innovative as concepts go. And I'm a firm believer in laughing your way to a healthily chicken souped-up soul and stuff, but tweeting the goings-on of my underwear to the world may be taking it a nipple too far in the quest to save our tits. Also, these t-shirts make my blood boil:

The last thing we need is to give douchey bros carte blanche to make comments about our breasts under the guise of cancer awareness. I don't want strangers functioning under the delusion that they have any business knowing what's going on under my bra. Hands (and eyes and ears) off my tits, please.