First, a salute to the Oxford team that has performed this valuable study. I have been interested in nipples for years. It’s more than a hobby for me. Some might say I’m obsessed.
Whatever the case, at last we have some fresh, new, hard-won data.
The research team investigated the nipples of ten thousand women, with a few cross-dressers thrown in. This was not some casual study. There were metrics.
Each set of nipples was measured and graded according to four separate attributes: size, three-dimensional shape, colour, and aspect. A scale from one to ten was used to supply a value for each attribute. No specific meaning was assigned to any particular nipple code, although on my visit to the university, I did hear 3-1-2-10 referred to as “angelic” once or twice, and 8-6-9-2 as “befitting a chimp.” Just normal, casual, ongoing theorizing.
The researchers did not want the women to catch any vagrant expressions on their faces as they took the measurements. For this reason they all wore identical rubber pullover masks in the shape of the current Prime Minister.
With a woman’s nipples coded, the researcher would remove the mask and ask the woman to please make herself decent.
“I’ve seen your nipples,” the researcher would say.
“Oh, yes?” was the typical response.
“You may say that I’ve graded them,” the researcher would say.
“Have you then?” the woman would say.
“I have indeed. Do you know what I think?”
“Why, no. I haven’t a clue.”
“You haven’t a clue? You know your own nipples, I suppose?”
“Of course I do. I’ve had four children and two husbands.”
“How would you describe them, in so many words?”
“Well, my youngest has red hair…”
“Your nipples, I mean. How would you describe your nipples? I’ve coded them here in my notebook, you know, but now I want to know what you think of them. Are you proud of your nipples? Have you named them? Do they reflect your personality? Do they have a mind of their own?”
“You seem unsure of yourself. Are you insecure when the conversation turns to your nipples?”
“Just my phone. Would you unbutton again for a moment, please.”
“It has a camera, your phone?”
“It does indeed. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get a quick shot of your breasts. Just for our clinical debriefing in the pub tonight… Hey! Don’t do that. Insecure, that’s what you are, all right. What a pity.”