Those Pesky Points

the struggle is real

Can we talk about something uncomfortable? Nipples. Everyone’s got them. So why are they so damn embarrassing? They poke through shirts (especially light colored ones) like tiny darts that could take an eye out. I was raised a nudist, but since then I have joined the outside world. I understand the attitudes and discomfort these sharp points can create. I have to say that in a nudist setting, it was all part of the human body and not given exceptional attention—unless there happened to be an ornament attached.

The problem is, I hate to wear bras. Even without wires, I find myself tugging at its tight hot embrace. Sports bras aren’t bad once I find the elusive pads in the washing machine abyss. Squeezing them back in through the micro-slit of fabric is a feat in itself. Sports bras without pads do absolutely nothing to conceal the offending tips.

Then I discovered nipple covers. (Yes, guys, they are kind of like “pasties”) Such a joy! They adhere to the skin, flattening and concealing smoothly (once the edges are pressed out). The world would believe my nipples didn’t  even exist. (I could be the amazing nippleless woman!) Coverage with comfort. This is what I had been searching for my entire adult life. They were perfect. Okay, I’m not sure if I would trust the adhesion enough to say, dance to a rowdy version of Y M C A,  but a quiet dinner out or a romantic movie would be fine. A non- violent movie. Nothing that would cause you to throw your arms up in shock. 

Now, this is a very important public service announcement…Never forget to remove these rubbery little suckers. They can and will lead to an awkward moment during intimate caressing. 

“What the …?”  your partner mumbles. 

 oh shit!

“Hold on, let me just…” 

 You quickly and discreetly reach under your shirt and yank at the circular disks  (which is the same as ripping a bandaid off a fresh wound) and let out a wail.

“Oooowwee!”

So much for being discreet. 

I have found that dark tops can provide braless coverage, but I’ve never been much for goth. It would be so nice if I could be comfortable with letting my girls breathe fully, unstifled by society and my own self consciousness. Back in the seventies, women burned their bras. Back in the seventies, I didn’t own one. In fact, I mostly wore nothing at all. Such sweet bliss!