So, last night, I sneezed so violently that my whole body wrenched forward and my nipple got caught in between my wrist and my watch strap.
#truefact #notalternativefact #youcouldn’tmakeitup
I yelped slightly, partly because of the shock, partly because of the sheer intensity of the sneeze, not so much because of the pain – it strangely didn’t hurt that much, and quite a bit because of that traumatic memory of when I accidentally whisked my boob.
My yelping interrupted the film we were watching and my husband, who luckily is used to my violent sneezes, glanced across and I exclaimed to him, “My nipple got caught in my watch strap!!!”
He winced appropriately and turned his face back in the direction of the TV screen. After all, whisk flashbacks are mine and mine alone.
To be honest, I did feel the need to re-discuss that old event, but then, for some reason, I thought better of it.
Now, at this point, you may be forgiven for wondering why my watch strap is far too big or if I have an exceptionally small nipple? I can ease your concerns on both counts. Well, I think I can. I mean, I haven’t actually compared my nipple to other ladies nipples as it’s not really polite to do so and I am, after all, British. But my suspicion is, that in terms of size, my nipple is completely normal. And my watch strap is not too big either, rather, I have to wear it slightly loose because it says to do so in the instructions. It’s one of those Fitbit things. You know, one of those watches that measure not only time, but also your pulse as well as the amount of steps that you take in a day. What that actually means is: that it’s a watch that controls your mood – if you achieve more than the 10,000 steps that it expects of you in your day, then you feel ON TOP OF THE WORLD and if you don’t, like yesterday, you fall into a deep black hole of depression – and from then on in you just wander back and forth to the fridge scouring for sugar. I really thought my Fitbit might have cut me some slack and given me a
point step for each violent sneeze, after all I’m sure they must use up more calories than a simple step. In fact, they are so whole-body-consuming that each sneeze should really be classed as exercise. But no, my Fitbit not only discounted my activity, but it also ensnared my nipple.
Shortly after my ‘event’ interrupted our viewing pleasure, we heard a little knock on the living room door. We thought about it for a brief moment and then we shouted unanimously, “Come in!” And a no-longer-so-tiny daughter shuffled into the room. Crying.
My husband paused the film.
We asked her what was wrong. But she was so absorbed with her own tears that she couldn’t tell us anything. So I started the guessing game:
Are you ill? Did you have a bad dream? Have you forgotten about some piece of homework? Have you lost something? Are you dreading going back to school? Did your brother annoy you?
She couldn’t speak, only sob and shake her head.
So, I thought I’d try the cheer-her-up approach. “Do you know what just happened to mummy?” I asked, excitedly.
She shook her pretty little head again.
“I just sneezed so violently my nipple got caught in my watch strap!!!!”
She screwed up her face.
But the sobs seemed less….
So I continued, “Do you remember the time mummy whisked her nipple…?”
Kids. You gotta love ’em. They have their uses…