Nipples

I used to have normal Nipples.
That sounds so odd doesn't it? I mean, really, Nipples?
Oh for Hell's sake!
Its true though. My nipples used to be normal.
They stood at attention when they got cold and bled if they got cut or twisted off (thank you darling little 9th grade girlfriend) and they even looked fairly normal.
Then I decided to be "fit"
The first time I ran 10 miles they were bleeding. From rubbing against my t-shirt. Two important things I learned from that.
1: Bandaids can be preventive medication
2: Running SUCKS
Scabbed nipples is a very odd experience. At least for me it was. One that I did not care to repeat.
Karma-man hates me.
Enter the triathlon coach.
He was not my coach and never will be. In fact if I ever see him again I am going to twist one of his nipples off.
We were standing next to each other at the Scofield triathlon start. I was having a rough time getting my wet-suit on. Which is typical when the wet-suits are made for little teenier tiny humans that have wee little 34 inch chests and 14 inch biceps. For the love of Paul Bunyan! My forearms are 14 inches, geeez.
Anyways he looks over and seeing me wiggling into my sausage case with extreme difficulty says "You know, it goes on and comes off a lot easier if you don't have any body hair"
Its probably a gift from my Polynesian heritage but I have never had a lot of body hair. Its not very masculine to admit this, but I just havent had much.
No gorilla back or bird nest belly. In fact, the body hair I did have was lightish in color and sparse. Very sparse.
However. I am dumb.
At the next triathlon I decided to be chest hair free.
No razors, I didnt want it growing back in a thatch of black wire.
I discovered this product called NAIR.

Its this sort of horrific acid that you put on hairy spots and it painlessly eats the hair.
No razor burn or cuts or nicks.
Just a smooth wet-suit slipping expanse of hair free chest.
I was so pleased with myself.
I sent the fam out to the pool so I could have some privacy to rid myself of hair the night before the start.
I read the instructions carefully and then carefully spread the goo over my chest from the shoulders down. Waited the proscribed amount of time and then carefully used the little shovel thingy to scrape the goo off.
Still had hair.
So
I ignored the instructions and spread the noxious crap as thickly as I could over the trouble spots. Mainly around my nipples and then I waited. Double the time.
It was itching a little when I scraped it off, but I was hair free.
It felt a little sticky, my chest did, when I put the wetsuit on the next morning. The water was cold enough that I was able to ignore the itching during the swim.
It had slipped on wonderfully.
Getting out of the water I unzipped the back and held out my arms for the yanker (some sweet old fit lady helping us get our sausage cases off) to yank. She yanked.
The wetsuit came off as slick as lard on a cookie sheet.
So did the top sixteen layers of my chest skin.
Nipples included.
I screamed right in her face. Loud. High Pitched and warbling.
We were both surprised.
I finished the triathlon shirtless, and skinless.
They have never been the same.
My Nipples.
They stand up all the time now. No matter what.
I think they might be afraid of what I may try next.
I know I am.