now that the time has come for me to surrender my NiPPLE to the vast and lonely corners of the interweb, I figured it might be useful to provide a bit of background on the development of this strange story.
when I was five years old I tried to cut the plastic breasts off of one of my sister’s old Barbie dolls. my baby brother was still too young to really play with, and my two older sisters never really liked to play with me. I was always jealous of my sisters and the clever dramas they would create with their smoking hot figurines. for them, Barbies were a reason to get up in the morning. I wanted something to occupy my time the way Barbies had for them. I wanted an action figure—any kind of action figure. I had to have something that made me spring out of bed with excitement in the mornings. unfortunately, I don’t think we had the money then to buy new toys. so as my enthusiasm for action figures began to flourish, scant were the finances to support the habit. as a result, my MoTHER let me use one of my sister’s raggedy Barbies as a temporary action figure. she had sewed some old fabric together to give the doll more masculine attire, and we cut the long blond hair down to a buzz. but one thing about the doll bugged me. protruding from below it’s makeshift shirt, like peaks in a row of mountains, were two bulbous, plastic breasts. I tried to convince myself that they were just extremely pronounced pectoral muscles, but I knew they weren’t. dammit I knew they weren’t. who was I kidding? they were breasts and I couldn’t ignore them—I was desperate. so it was such that on one overcast day when I was five I found myself using a pair of scissors to saw the plastic boobs off the transgender Barbie doll. but the scissors were dull and no match for the Barbie’s rock-solid chest sacks. I scraped at them frantically for hours, but it was no use. I barely made a mark…
anyway, I hope that was helpful.