The Nipple Post

It is a widely known and highly documented fact that most animals require an astonishing, jaw-dropping amount of nipples.  I did a little research on nipple abundance, and learned that cats have eight of them.  Rats clock in with a whopping twelve nipples.  I don’t even understand how all those nips can fit on one body.  A dog also has 8, but the crazy thing is that the dog has nipples on three different parts of its body.  God got to the dog and decided to spread those babies out all over the place, like he was playing the devil in a game of Nipple Battleship.  I’m thankful that at least my nipples are concentrated in one area; I’d feel a bit odd if I had nipples on my kneecaps or one on each butt cheek.  And a pig – fasten your seatbelt, friend – a pig has up to sixteen nipples.  Sixteen!  Can you imagine that?  That’s more nipples than I see in the average Skinimax movie!

Meanwhile, the craziest of animals, the duckbilled platypus, has no nipples at all.  It and the Barbie Doll are the only nipple-less mammals known to man.  Drawing the next logical conclusion, one can also assume that Barbie, being a nipple-less monotreme like the platypus, also reproduces by laying eggs.

“B15, Abdomen.” “Hit! You’ve sunk my areola!”

I write about this small yet fascinating part of the body because just the other day I had a unique and somewhat disturbing incident with my nipples in the shower.  That sounds strange – don’t be mistaken, I was in the shower too.  It wasn’t just my nipples in there.  But let’s stay focused, people.  While those other animals need their nips, I personally have little use for mine.  Before going on, I must provide some short background information detailing how I went to the beach almost a year ago and grossed everybody out.

Does this occupation require a shirt? No? Then I will consider being a rock star.

Some men – such as Anthony Kiedis and Iggy Pop – absolutely love not wearing a shirt.  In fact, I think that’s why they got into rock music to begin with.  It wasn’t so much the music itself, but instead they looked at several occupations and deduced the shirt-to-no-shirt-wearing ratio.  Clearly, “rock musician” came out with a favorable score and thus they took singing lessons.  In second place, if you’re curious, was “lifeguard.”  I am a teacher, and that job ranks near the bottom in shirt-to-no-shirt-wearing ratio.  It’s pretty much exclusively all shirt.  Hence, it is perfect for me because I, unlike lifeguards, don’t like to take off my top.  Speaking of lifeguards, they have those at the beach, and almost a year ago I went to one of those.  In a rare instance of body bearing, I removed my shirt.

“Whoa dude!” a friend said.  “You gotta do something about those nips.”

“What you talking about, Willis?” I asked in response.

“You got mad hairy nipples, man.  That shit’s nasty.”

I tried to brush it off.  “Girls like a hairy chest.”

“A hairy chest, yeah…but you don’t have any hair on your chest at all!  You just got long ass hairs growing out of your nipples.  Shit!  They look like they have eyelashes!”

At the conclusion of the conversation, we agreed that I’d have to start shaving my nipples.  I’m not sure if a lot of people do this.  It struck me as a bit odd, but it was preferable to having ape nips.  So I did; every two or three days I’d quickly shave up in the shower.  I was struck by how much better my nipples looked, and started to think that one day I could indeed realize my dream of having a pacifier modeled after me.

Flash forward to a few days ago.  With the passing of time, I’d gotten lazy and had forgotten about my nipple hair issue.  However, my recent attempts at muscle gain have led to lots of disappointing flexing in the mirror, and I noticed that again my nipples were looking a bit like Vince Neil circa “Dr. Feelgood.”  Big hair.  The next morning I decided to do something about it, and that’s when I had my little slip up.

I’m not sure how many people can relate to this, but I cut myself shaving my right nipple.  I knew I’d nicked it the second it happened.  A thin line of red liquid trickled down my chest and it looked like I was lactating blood.  Then I thought, “Hey, I wonder if there’s ever been a scene in a vampire movie where the vampire mother lactates blood for the cute little vampire baby.”  I thought that would be neat; like most of my ideas, I acknowledged that it’d either been done before or, if not, the reason it hadn’t been done before was because it was really stupid.

A bat’s nipples are located in its armpits.  That must be a really uncomfortable part of a vampire’s transformation from person to bat.  Massive nipple displacement.  It would be especially awkward if the nipple never returned to its true position and was subsequently hidden, for some period of time, lost in a massive sea of underarm hair.  I guess it wouldn’t really matter – vampires, like a lot of us, don’t really need ‘em anyways.

(One final sidenote: While looking up slang terms for nipples, I found a list that said the #1 slang term for nipples is…”The Pointer Sisters.”  I subsequently felt I should share that.)

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