My nipples have always been a little weird. A touch too puffy and surprisingly offset from the center of my chest so that when I reach a particularly egregious stretch of physical inactivity (as I have recently) they all but disappear into my armpits.
I used to be able to lick them.
Back when I was at the peak of my fat kid I saw a picture of Trinity Loren sucking her tit and I thought that was sexy as hell and so I tried it thinking – I think – that if I succeeded a. some girl would find that just as sexy as I did and be totally turned on by the fact that I could emulate a doomed pornstar and, I don’t know, do me? or b. I would turn myself on beyond belief thereby equipping my future masturbation sessions with a dissasociative ace in the hole.
But that didn’t happen.
All that happened was some sad fat white kid licked his nipple in the shower on sunny SoCal afternoon and got really stoked and then really sad because a boy with manboobs is gonna be a boy for a very fucking long time and I was, I was even after I discovered bulimia, anorexia and sexual intercourse.
But that’s another shame for another day.
Today I’m talking about my nipples and how much I hate them and will until some displaced tropical malady takes them or I finally go as Pink as I wanna be and then I know I’ll miss them.
Because they are a delight to pinch and flick and wet and feel harden in the winter.
So maybe I don’t hate them.
I just wish they were in a better place.