If I had a quarter for every nipple attack that’s upstaged a cute top I’ve owned.. I’d be playing shuffle board on my personal yacht right now.  However, that’s no longer the case as after I turned 28 years old, my size D’s started the Great Battle with Gravity and continue to lose. Going braless is not even an option for me unless I want my boobs to have a playdate with my belly button. I have to wear double-duty bras with ropes for straps and thick cups that give me Barbie boobs and no cleavage. I know…. too much information, but just an objective introduction to understand my alliance with the featured post today (wow.. I said a lot of big words in one sentence. I’m smart.)

Anywho… we can all high-five this post by Stephanie Dolgoff, author of the blog Formerly Hot  and the book  “My Formerly Hot Life”   which is on pre-sale now (the book officially launches in August, but you can buy now by clicking on the book title!)

Here’s to rebelious nipples. Enjoy Stephanie’s story!

“Girls Gone Mild”

All I can say is that they didn’t have “nipple petals” when I was at an age where I could even consider going braless. Or if they did, I didn’t know about them.

I’m talking about those little adhesive flower-shaped thingies you stick on your breasts, presumably to prevent your headlights from showing through your top. (The banner above is from YourNippleCovers.com). I do remember being embarrassed when that occasionally happened–like when someone told the kind of story that also made my arm hair stand up–but I could never figure out why I should be embarrassed, precisely. What did the phenomenon really betray about me? That I was secretly aroused? That my mouth said no, but my nipples said yes? Not hardly. It usually happened when a cool breeze blew through.

So I’m in this store, Pookie & Sebastian, on Third Avenue, and you can’t wear a real bra with almost any of their otherwise adorable dresses. That’s a problem for a gal who is feeling the effects of gravity, has nursed twins, and, well, probably should never have gone braless in the first place. And probably should never have walked into Pookie & Sebastian in the first place, but of course I have to do that at least 30,000 times before I finally get the message.

Today’s excursion beat it into my head pretty good. I held up a cute little strappy number, and then thought aloud, “Oooh, can’t wear a bra with this.” The very blonde and tanned salesgirl, whose back was to me as she stacked skinny jeans on a high shelf, thought I was speaking to her. Without turning around, she chirped, “No, you can’t, but we have these really great…”

At that moment, she stepped down from the stool she was on, and swished her hair around to face me. Her eyes landed on my boobs.

“…nipple petals,” she said flatly, as if she wished she could inhale the words back into her throat. It was clear from her expression that she felt my nipples were beyond petals. Potential protrusion was the least of my problems. Any nipple issue that I might have if I were to go braless would be overshadowed by the fact that I was braless, and the effect that would have on onlookers. I don’t think I need to paint a picture.

She pulled her eyes from my breasts, up to my almost 43-year-old face, and smiled with a mix of sympathy and embarrassment. “Have you seen this blouse?” she said, holding up a loose, flowy peasant number. “It’s really great because you can…I mean…”

“You can wear a bra with it. I know,” I said, putting her out of her awkward misery. I felt bad for the girl. It was not her fault that I insist on fantasizing about wearing clothing that no longer looks good on me. She didn’t mean any harm.

It was clear, however, that she couldn’t fathom that someday, perhaps, she, too, might need supportive undergarments, even if, like me, she’s not particularly large. It never occurred to me when I was her age. I usually wore a bra, but if I didn’t want to, I could get away without it.

“It’s really not so bad, having to wear a bra,” I said. “It happens. I don’t mind. And if you get one that’s lined, no nipple-itis.” She smiled gratefully. I even bought the top, in a fit of wanting to prove to her (or perhaps myself) that there are other attractive ways to dress that don’t involve nipple petals, and that I’m OK with it.

I’m going to return the peasant top, though. It’s nothing special. Not like a strapless underwire bra that didn’t hurt or wind up around my waist by day’s end would be, if such a thing existed. “Nipple Scaffolding.” Someone’s gotta invent that.

Shay from "The Biggest Loser."

I know I’m almost a week late with this one, but, you know I’m slow!! Okay – VENTING time!! Who watches “The Biggest Loser?” Last week, those selfish people voted off the largest PERSON to ever be on the show. They voted off the person who’s life is most threatened by obesity and needed to be there for the medical and physical support. The girl they kept on, Amanda, was HALF Shay’s size. HALF!!! I’m sweating from anger… and the fact that it’s 100 degrees in here, but mostly, from ANGER!

HOWEVER, Shay is what my blog is about. Women who fall and rebound with grace, dignity and humor. She was 476lbs when she started the show, they sent her home at 376lbs and she lost an additional 38 lbs in a little over a month. She now weighs 338lbs! She told everyone to suck it. She was hopeless.. but she fought through it and LOOK AT HER NOW!! She has so much more to go though, which is why I get so pissed when I think about it!! Click on her name below and watch her video. We can always bounce, my lovely ladies! YES WE CAN! President Obama – I did not steal that from you.. you stole it from my journal entry from 1995. I am so brilliant that President Obama had his people read through my journal for speech inspiration. There are cures to diseases in that journal and also confessions about having an ongoing crush on Mark Hamill. What is wrong with me? WATCH SHAY!!

Shay

WOWZERS!! Girl, you’re not alone if your boyfriend’s Rabbi hits on you! I need a shot of whiskey after reading this one. Poor Jennifer!

My ex-boyfriend is Jewish and I’m not, but although I’m not well-educated on Judaism, I’m very confident it’s not okay for any religious teacher to behave in this manner.  His family wasn’t too happy that I wasn’t Jewish, so after our relationship hit the two-year mark, they invited us to dinner the same night their Rabbi and his family was coming over. I didn’t know if it was because they were going to try and convince me to switch to Judaism because they thought we might get engaged? I had no idea they’re ulterior motive. I was nervous. Dinner went well, no one asked me religious questions, no pressuring, nothing at all. I really enjoyed myself and liked the Rabbi and his wife very much. Later we went into library to have an after-dinner drink (yes, these people were very wealthy with a huge house.) As we walked everyone out, the Rabbi walked beside me, his hand lightly on my back and asked me how I felt about marrying my boyfriend since we had different faiths? I told him I was opened to a inter-religious marriage or if we decided together, on our own terms, I would consider converting. He stopped, smiled and said “I thought so,” slid his hand down my back and PATTED MY BUTT then walked off!!! I was floored. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t no whether to laugh or vomit! I didn’t make a scene, just waited until I was in the car with my boyfriend and told him what his Rabbi did. His first reaction was “Really?!” then he got mad at me and accused me of making it up. He said the Rabbi was a very nice man, committed to his faith and would never do anything like that. That was the beginning of the end for us because I KNEW what I felt and that wasn’t a “nice” tap. I still can’t believe it.

I later ran into his brother’s wife and she told me that the Rabbi had done that to her twice. She said it’s just something he does to women, but is harmless and doesn’t mean anything by it. WHATEVER!

Jennifer – tell the happy little wifey that I call BULLSHIT on that one. A man puts his had on your tooshy – he means it!

I’ve put many things under my armpits… okay, that sounded really bad. What I meant was.. I have put many odor/perspiration fighting antidotes under my armpits when I was out of deodorant, but the following story is above and beyond the creativity I’ve used in these situations.  After I heard this, I had to give myself mouth to mouth. Don’t ask how I did it… I’m sure someone has it on video, but I laughed that hard.

I’ve been with the same company for seven years and over the years, made close friends with counter-parts in different cities. A friend and coworker, came to Chicago for work last week and stayed with me. Work/Slumber Party is much more fun than a boring hotel room.  Anyhow, the first morning she was here, I went to work super early and she came a little later. She carried-on her bags and didn’t bring any toiletries because of the terrorist-proof regulations at the airport.  She planned on using my toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo…etc.

Side Note: Seriously, terrorists have SO not caught on to the fact that they shouldn’t bring their powder weapons in a shampoo bottle or in form of baby formula. Go airports, go! Out-smart those terrorists! It completely makes sense to take away my $60, 5 oz. moisturizer because it could be saturated with bomb powder!!!  I’m bitter.

Continuing the story, when she got to the office, she yanked me to the side and asked me what she smelled like.  The scent was very fresh smelling… very familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I asked her why – maybe it’s because she’s a smoker and didn’t want to smell like smoke.. I had no idea. Then she went on to tell me she couldn’t find my deodorant.  Hello, it’s in the medicine cabinet. “Where is that? I only saw two mirrors over your bathroom counter,” she asked. When I told her that the mirror on the left IS the medicine cabinet she just looked at me. “Are you kidding?!” I still didn’t understand why this was a big deal. I asked her if she found the deodorant. “No,” she said. Then I asked what she did in place of deodorant? “The only thing I could find was your Febreze Air Freshener so I tested it out and it wasn’t sticky so I thought, it’s good enough to fight bacteria and odors, so it’ll work on sweat.” YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SNORTING THAT AIR FRESHNER!!! YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE LAVENDAR FRESH SMELL IS MY LAVENDER FEBREZE WHICH HOUSES AT THE BACK OF MY TOILET TO DIFUSE THE SMELL OF ASS AND YOU USED IT AS DEODORANT???  Yes, that is exactly what she was saying.

She was wearing white and desperate.. so she took a chance with Febreze. After all, it does come in other forms like.. fabric spray and the kind you plug into a socket.. so why not use it to soak up pit-sweats?

Later that day, her armpits were itching because she broke out in a rash. PRICELESS!! Innovation gone wrong. I say “A” for creativity, though. I would’ve stuffed toilet paper in my purse and dabbed throughout the day.