When I was a freshman in college, one of the women on my floor (she was the same age as I was, but I went to an all women’s college and as budding feminists we referred to ourselves as women on good days, or wymyn on less good days) told me that she detested the sound of the word nipple. I was half “right on!” and half “what the fuck?” because it’s not like we were discussing nipples or about to breastfeed or go pasties shopping or anything like that.
But she thought it was important that I knew that and I just thanked my lucky stars that I didn’t have any word aversions that I felt compelled to force on people.
Hold that story in a special place, if you will.
* * *
I bought a new dress this week. It’s blue and has a white paisley design. Or maybe it’s white and has a blue paisley design– I avoided looking at it too closely because it gave me a mild case of vertigo.
I liked the dress but couldn’t shake the feeling that it was making me look a little..what’s the word? Upholstered. So I modeled it for Mama, which is really an Extreme Sport.
Mama liked it. “It’s nice,” she said, but added lovingly, “you need new bra. Your bra takes your sosok at level of your elbow and your sosok should be at the level of your bicep.”
Ok, two things.
I can’t believe that the Russian word for nipple is sosok which, both loosely and literally translated, means That Thing You Suck.
And second of all, my nipple is totally aligned with my bicep, or at least that area where a bicep should be.
This is why no one should wear any clothes, ever.