At a recent outing to the polo, my girlfriend had a rather unsightly mishap with one of her ‘nipple pasties’.
Now for those of you that don’t know what a ‘nipple pastie’ is, it’s a sticky disc of sorts, applied to ones nipples to avoid the visual presence of erect nipples. My friend detest bra’s and evidently doesn’t have to wear them, but is most aware of the need to shield her nipples so that all eyes remain above the neck.
Without reading the instructions, she ripped them from their box and pressed them on to her nipples like two little suctions and floated out of the door dressed to the nines. The day was magnificent as high society mingled amongst the various marquees. The sound of high-pitched laughter drowned out the clinking of champagne glasses as the Veuve Clicquot flowed endlessly.
Bending over to place her glass on the table she noticed what looked like an “insipid jellyfish” on the front of her Burberry shoes. “What on earth is that?” she thought out loud as the ladies around her peered down closely to inspect this sea creature that had now become a shoe ornament. “I have no idea,” said one as another took out her glasses for a second look. More and more people gathered around trying to work out what was on her shoe and then it came to her. It was the bloody nipple cover and what was worse; the adhesive side had landed on her shoe making it difficult to come off.
Now had this had been me, I would be screaming it to the world for a good laugh, but my friend is British; very proper and conservative and was mortified that the fine ladies around her would eventually work out the tricks that go on beneath her dress.
So this got me thinking about women and their boobs. I have always had big boobs that I had reduced in my late 20’s but came back full size after I had children. They have always caused me grief as my entire wardrobe centres around my bust, but I have come to terms with this and thank God that I have them and they are healthy. But I will admit that I was over the moon last week when Kim Kardashian came out and showed the world the trick to her enviable cleavage.
“You tape them up so they’re super lifted,” she writes in an entry on her app. “It takes a little work, but trust me, it’s all worth it.”
Just about any kind of tape will do the trick, Kim says: “I’ve used everything from duct tape to packing tape to masking tape, and I think that the best I found is gaffer’s tape. It sticks the best!”
But Kim offers one word of caution: “Make sure you don’t have any lotions or oils on when you’re lifting your boobs up with the tape. Just brace yourself for when it’s time to take it off, LOL.”
After reading this I spent the best part of the day trying to ignore the fact that I had a roll of gaffa tape in my drawer, but the lure of having a cleavage like hers was too much and I could no longer resist the temptation.
I ripped my top off and got to work taping my boobs up and over my arm like a half version of Borat’s bathing suit and I’ll be damned…it worked. Out of nowhere my DD’s were looking more like perky C’s and I was ready to take on the world. I stood in front of the full-length mirror with my shirt unbuttoned and I couldn’t believe that I, Melanie Sheppard, the girl known for her ample bosom had two breasts that not only separated but also were lifted. I was ready to take on the world when my mood of euphoria was quickly replaced with horror as it dawned on me that I had to get this tape off.
In my excitement I hadn’t thought this part through, but it was time to collect my kids from school and there was no way the school mums would appreciate my boobs as much as I did, (the lollypop man…well that’s a different story).
If there was such thing as a brazilian wax for the boobs, I can now say that I have had one. There was cursing and there were tears and at one point I even considered just leaving two black squares of gaffa tape on my nipples as the thought of removing it left me wanting to pass out. Eventually I removed the tape leaving my skin red raw and a pledge to never be so foolish as to try it again.
The moral to the story? Own your assets and be proud of them regardless of their shape and size. Nipple, cleavage, however big the obstacle may seem it could be worse. You could have chaffed nipples and be the ridicule of high society.
Article by Melanie Sheppard.