Blog Dis

Wherefor art thou summer? How shocking to have woken up on the third last day of August to cooler than seasonal temperatures hovering around 11 degrees Celsius, which is 51.8 Fahrenheit. To this I say, WTF? 🤬Now we are two days into the new month of September, and thankfully the temps have pulled themselves out of Mother Nature's a**, so perhaps there is a little hope left before the arrival of Fall. I can hope, right?

I'd like to re-wind the summer, thank you, if you please because summer typically flies by my nose, and yours too, faster than you can say, "Pour me a gin and tonic." I begin every summer filled with grand enthusiasm for the full launch of summer, to lollygag, indulge in patio-season, cottage weekends, and BBQ parties.

Summer is your lover. Summer is a cherished time to let loose and go wild, stay up late, no early bedtime at all, to dress in scanty clothing, and to show off the curves. I sit in an office all day, as dreary as this sounds. The air conditioning rages too as the heat rises. Mostly, my legs in short shorts freeze and I wear a sweater when it's too cold. But the girls, my friends, the girls and their tiny pink buttons stay hard all day in the cool temperatures. Now, if I worked with men I doubt they'd mind much because let's face facts, nipples are always in style with men, and women too.

Last Friday, I bumped into my superintendent in the basement corridor, as I was taking out my recycling, dressed how I typically dress in the early morning when I'm knee-deep in food preparation, laundry, and the like. He was kindly to me, as he always is, polite and willing to listen, as I chatted about the latest issue that requires his attention. This time around I explained how my bedroom closet needed to have replaced a handle on one side of the folding doors. You see, I'm often too rough with inanimate things, like doors and cupboards and when I open them quickly, things fall apart, such as the case of me ripping off the small round handle, and thereby the washer on the opposite side of the door went flying into the closet. Without the washer, the door knob can't be held in place because the long screw affixed to the door knob needs a washer on the opposite side to be screwed in place. No washer. No door knob.

This is hardly an issue worth mentioning. However, I'm leading you somewhere with this long train of thought. You see I dress in light clothing when I'm working in my kitchen, and it consists of shorts and underwear, a bra and a singlet top, which means the top has very skinny straps that make the bra straps obvious. Returning to my superintendent, whom I very much like... he stood there quietly listening to me trying to come up with the proper technical word to describe the door knob and washer, attentively nodding his head in a superintendent's way, and then it happened, like it typically does with men, his eyes dropped and settled on my nipples. Maybe it's impossible for a pair of eyes to avoid doing this, or maybe it's just an issue that men of all ages have, and are incapable of regulating their eyes. I don't know, to tell you the truth. I'm not a man. I just know that when I speak to women, my eyes don't float downward. They remain fixed on the eyes of the individual with whom I'm speaking.

Women have zero control over their nipples. Nipples get hard in heat and cold, and can sometimes respond merely to the sound of a voice, if it's right, and resonates with our ears and brain. Are nipples like the penis? Hardly. Where nipples are petite and obvious, elevated closer to eye level, the penis is tucked away and positioned down low, so by comparison, women are less likely to look down at a man's crotch when engaged in dialogue with them. But when I speak with men, and depending on how I'm dressed, I often feel as though my intelligence is being unwittingly dressed down and viewed as being nothing more than a pair of pert nips.

Without nipples, where would nursing be? Without nipples, cleavage would feel alone. Without nipples, those ladies with very small girls would feel left out. To be sure, if you carry a large rack, nipples are an added bonus to the show. However, there's one element of owing a pair of nipples, perched on a pair of girls, that few men have considered: women need to look in the mirror when getting dressed to ensure that our nipples are on straight. Laugh all you want. There's nothing more embarrassing than catching yourself in the mirror and noticing that one nipple is more elevated in your bra than the other, one slightly higher, and one slightly lower. Nipples need to be presented in the bra on an even plain of view. A balanced image is ever so important, and the last thing I want to see happening is a man's pair of eyes looking and wondering, why are her nipples not on straight? 😂

Men have assigned all sorts of nicknames to describe this essential part of a woman's body, so here are some of my favorites: roses, headlights, buttons, raisins, babies, points, nips and tickles. My personal favorite is puppies' noses, a silly term I've used in my first fantasy novel, The Crimson Man, which has history in my life. My sister and I would call our nipples by that term when we were just kids.

I can't remember a time when I looked at a man's nipples and thought to myself, how am I expected to tear my eyes away from them. I prefer intimacy with men and not at all with women. This is just me. Yet, I recognize that men's nipples are sensitive and shouldn't be neglected during intimacy. But if I may speak on behalf of the female population, male nipples are just not elevated to the status enjoyed by female nipples. For one thing, male nipples don't feed newborns, and they often have hair growing around them. Now, on social networks, there's a great deal of banter about how men will no longer need women to give birth to babies, opting instead for robotic wombs, or artificial pregnancy robots, to use the official term. I say to this, "Knock yourselves out! Use artificial wombs to have as many babies as your pocket-book can afford." And then I'd add, "Oh! A few quick questions, if you don't mind. Who will breastfeed the baby? Who will change its diapers? Who will dress it, bathe it, raise it, cook its food, clean up after its mess, and teach this young impressionable mind to focus on its school lessons?"

Men may view technological advancements in artificial life-forms as an ideal means to replace women in all respects but I'm willing to bet men won't be ready to give up a live woman, or from lowering their gaze to ogle real nipples. As for me, I make it a point to ensure that I wear mine straight each day.

Indeed, my eye-balling friends, the world is a richer place because of women and their real nipples.