One of my cats has Nipple Finders in his paws. No matter what position I’m lying in, no matter how he decides to climb on me for scratchings, he always manages to stand right on the nipple. And for a ten-pound cat, he’s got a lot of gravity.
Oh, and in high school, I took a line drive to the left tit in gym class. I stopped even trying to catch for the rest of the year.
Congratulations {if that’s the appropriate response} That’s the kind of victory that’s good to hear about.
My sister is a beautiful woman who had large breasts all her life. After she hit 40 she got regular check ups and caught several malignant tumors. Finally after going through that for several years she opted for a elective double mastectomy. She told us that after years of having big ones she’d get the chance to experience being flat chested. It hasn’t diminished her beauty at all.
1,000 years ago, when I was still just Pupzilla… I worked in the largest seasonal amusement park in the country in Ohio (Cedar Point). I worked in the Games department, relieving happy guests of their spare cash. Each day, they gave you an old Army surplus ammo box to keep as your cash drawer. They locked down pretty tightly and were also handy as weapons in the event someone tried to accost you while walking from your game to the Turn In Your Money office.
I was working in an arcade and had to count down my “drawer” before I went on break. I completed the task quickly and tried to open my ammo box to drop the cash in. Well, the ammo box I got that day was a little sticky and I had trouble opening it. So I hugged it to my chest to get a little leverage, and used more force to get the thing open. I tossed in my cash, not realizing that Lefty had by now gotten in the way between the top rim of the box and the lid. I slammed the ammo box shut, clamping Lefty in it.
YEEEEOOOOOW!
I was really glad my boss was a woman because she heard me holler and ran back to see if I was okay. Tears streaming down my face, I said, “Um. I caught my boob in the box. Can you help me?” She was almost unable to because she was laughing so hard, but we managed to get the ammo box open, my boob out, and I was basically no worse for the wear.
But I never closed an ammo box with out setting it down on a table first, after that.
1,000 years ago, when I was still just Pupzilla… I worked in the largest seasonal amusement park in the country in Ohio (Cedar Point). I worked in the Games department, relieving happy guests of their spare cash. Each day, they gave you an old Army surplus ammo box to keep as your cash drawer. They locked down pretty tightly and were also handy as weapons in the event someone tried to accost you while walking from your game to the Turn In Your Money office.
I was working in an arcade and had to count down my “drawer” before I went on break. I completed the task quickly and tried to open my ammo box to drop the cash in. Well, the ammo box I got that day was a little sticky and I had trouble opening it. So I hugged it to my chest to get a little leverage, and used more force to get the thing open. I tossed in my cash, not realizing that Lefty had by now gotten in the way between the top rim of the box and the lid. I slammed the ammo box shut, clamping Lefty in it.
YEEEEOOOOOW!
I was really glad my boss was a woman because she heard me holler and ran back to see if I was okay. Tears streaming down my face, I said, “Um. I caught my boob in the box. Can you help me?” She was almost unable to because she was laughing so hard, but we managed to get the ammo box open, my boob out, and I was basically no worse for the wear.
But I never closed an ammo box with out setting it down on a table first, after that.
Link in post above fixed.
I haven’t experienced quite the, uh, onsalught some of my fellow Dopettes have, but…count me in on freckafree’s CHOMP! experience. When my son experimented with those first two little teeth and nearly took my nipple off, we were done. He was 8mos old at that point and I was back to work; I just took the CHOMP! as the final sign to be done.
I will say the very first time he latched on was a memorable (painfully memorable) occasion. I was in the hospital, Son just hours old, and asked a nurse to help me get Son to properly latch. When she squeeze my nipple and shoved it in Son’s mouth, and he didn’t do the soft suck-suck thing but instead clamped down with his gums before beginning to suck-suck, I yelped and had a face of “YoooowwwwWWWWW!” The nurse said, “…And that’s how I know he’s properly latched.”
With Son 2.0 due in 3 months, I am not looking forward to that repeated experience–or the cracked, chapped nipples that come with it. Lanolin cream is my friend.