Monday, March 28, 2011

Nip Quips, or Now You Know Way Too Much About My Nipples



          As an angsty, inordinately horny fifteen-year-old, I was horribly ashamed of my nipples. I was sure they were the reason I wasn’t getting any. Somehow, boys’ eyes were penetrating through my shirt and compensatingly lacey bra and discovering the pink monstrosity within. That was obviously why none of them liked it when I wouldn’t stop talking to them during class. My nipples were the rub.
            And so, I spent my naked life staring at them in the mirror at odd angles. My breasts had somewhat overgrown the Kim Possible stage but my nipples still seemed unacceptably puffy to me, jutting forward like large, fleshy bows on a reluctant boob ship. 
            They looked nothing like the luscious rosy discs closely hugging the breasts in magazines, topped by an eternally erect pencil eraser of nipple, perfectly centered, grab-able, grope-able, love-able.
            My nipples were, and remain, a dusty pink, emerging almost by surprise from the lucid tones of my skin. Even when hard, they are mounds of soft flesh with a pinprick on the end.
            And I couldn’t find them anywhere. If they weren’t diseased, they were at the very least unloved, for no men’s magazine, let alone any magazine, seemed to represent them.
            Then, despondently flipping through a men’s magazine at my friend’s house, I came across an article about the most beautiful women these men had ever seen. I can’t seem to find the article online right now, but it had this image in it:

I also forget to shave my armpits sometimes!


            Aside from a slight size difference, those were my breasts. And this man waxed poetic about the nipples for practically an entire paragraph! He swooned over her nipples, and I swooned over mine. Suddenly, they were voluptuous pink goddesses, and as I grew older and ---well, frankly, watched more porn, I saw an incredible variety of breasts and realized that mine weren’t a god-forsaken anomaly. They were a beautiful testament to the variety of human form. And I love them. Because they will never escape a pinch or a bite or a suck. They will never hide respectably without a bra. Please, pink monstrosities? Nuh-uh. These suckers beg to be touched. 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I'm a huge fan of the puffy nipple. All nipples, really. Puffy nips especially because they really do beg to be sucked. Thanks for the blog. I look forward to your posts.