My nipples have been sore for weeks now. I know what you’re thinking:
I am not pregnant.
Nor am I PMSing or going through menopause.
No, I’ve just been cardio-ing my ass off, so I can turn my 95% sure I’m going to run this 5k with Steve into 100%, but before I can do that first I need to get into running shape, which apparently means I must first develop calluses on my nipples. Steve says I need some running shirts, but I’ve been rocking my Under Armour, and it feels like it makes the pain worse.
In fact, after doing an hour of cardio on Saturday, my nipples were bleeding–not gushing blood, more like a hangnail ripped too low on the cuticle that bleeds slowly.
And, yes, comparing my nipples to hangnails creates an image that is as disgusting for you as it is for me.
So, what’s a non-pregnant man to do?
Pasties? While potentially upping my sexy quotient, I’m sure the twirling tassels will become all too distracting for me to focus on my cardio.
Band-aids? This is what Steve used to do until one day while jogging back to his apartment after a vigorous run, he noticed people staring and smiling at him. He had sweat so much his t-shirt became see-through, putting his band-aid covered nipples on display for all of Capitol Hill.
If you couldn’t already tell from this blog, I have little shame; modeling my band-aided nipples isn’t a worry for me. It’s what tearing the band-aids off will do to my luxurious chest hair that I fear. Next!
So, runners of the world, what should I do? Help a fat man out.