Hey: Read this. Written by a plastic surgeon, it’s about how his cigarette smoking patients who have breast surgery lose circulation to their nipples, which then turn black and drop off. And how he has to apply leeches for a few days to restore the flow of blood.
It’s actually kind of funny. Unless, of course, they’re your nipples.
Several of my regular emailers — you know who you are — sent this back and forth today, one noting, for example, that he remembers the Marlboro Man always kept his shirt on and now he knows why.
Another speculated that Joe Camel might be nipple-free as well — and how many nipples do camels have, anyway? Does it depend on the number of humps?
“Nipples” is a funny word. This is our new kitten — cat #6 in the household pride — and I’m thinking maybe we should name him “Nipples.” “Here, Nipples! Dinner time!” Yes, I like that. And then Guido and I could post a photo of our Nipples on Facebook.
It also occurs to me that there damn well may be some twisted souls out there that would embrace the nipple-free look. As well as the tattoo and piercing crowd who would take the nipple-free opportunity for some fine collage art — big fat tits with little skulls, pins in their eyes and embedded crystals for teeth.
And they wouldn’t need to quit smoking, either!
I also wonder how many people will read this blood-curdling article and want to have the leech treatment just for shits and giggles. What a hit you’d be at the office Christmas party — showing up with a dozen or so hungry leeches attached to your flesh. Who needs mistletoe when you can have blood sucking leeches?
Tomorrow: a discussion of Camel Toe.
Boy is this not a candidate for SFDB’s Post of the Week. Even with the kitten.