So I thought I’d weigh in on the nippleitis wars.
Unlike 3D, I never enjoy nippleitis. Well, scratch that. I don’t think much of it if I am around good friends/people I am intimate with. But in any public or semi-public situation, and certainly in a professional situation, I’m always embarrassed when I discover that I am poking through my shirt.
It’s funny — it’s not so much that I notice people looking at me. In fact, I never notice people checking out my breasts. Never. I’m kind of oblivious to things like that. It’s more that I feel like nippleitis means that something is wrong, that a wardrobe malfunction has occurred and that I am being unprofessional/messy/gross.
I think my shame in nippleitis stems from the fact that as a kid, I was always kinda messy and my parents always gave me grief for not being put together. Although I have pretty much moved passed that, even now, I often feel that my clothes aren’t fitting right. For example, my boobs are not only large, but they are particularly large for my frame and so often my tops fall off my shoulders, revealing a bit too much cleavage and sometimes some bra as well. When that occurs, my first reaction is to be hard on myself for buying clothes that don’t fit properly or for not standing up straight or for wearing the wrong bra. Likewise, I tend to think my nippleitis also reflects my inability to appear put together — perhaps I could have avoided it with a better bra, a camisole or maybe I should never have bought the top to begin with. And so I get embarrassed and subsequently angry with myself for being so sloppy.
As I’m writing this, I realize that sometimes it just can’t be avoided and my nippleitis-induced self-wrath is a bit ridiculous. But no, I don’t think I will ever revel in my nipples.