Last night I dreamed my breasts were pig snouts. (Now if I were Sharon Olds I would weave this dream into a haunting poem about sexuality, domesticity and the erotic truth of violence. But I am not Sharon Olds, so instead I ducked into a metal bathroom stall a few times at work today to quickly yank my shirt up and pull my bra down to make absolutely certain that I do not have pig nosed nipples.)
In somewhat related news, Zoey has informed me that she is only shy with people who have nipples on their faces. Which I totally get--I would be shy, too, if someone with aureola eyes said hello to me, but I have yet to meet such a person and quite frankly would have no idea where to look. (At their chest?) Anyway, to make a long story short, it turns out Zoey meant to say that she is only shy with people who have pimples on their faces, which sucks for me seeing as how I am broken out. In other words, if a=b and b=c then a=c and I have nipples on my face which totally opens the door to me sporting pig snouts where my breasts should be, no?
Anyway, I have illustrated what this may look like only these are not my boobs. No, mine are far saggier, i.e. my pig noses are busy sniffing out truffles.
Happy Friday (I'll be the one taking Excedrin PM).