Whatever. I'm telling you my nipple story anyway.
See, I was hugging my cat Lily goodnight last night, per usual (DON'T JUDGE), when John accidentally startled his cat, Tonks, who in turn startled Lily, who then attempted to kick off of my chest, and in the process hooked a back claw into the aforementioned extremely sensitive bodily region.
A couple of thing go through your mind when a cat's claw is hooked in your nipple. Things like, "gosh, I wish I hadn't taken my bra off already," and, "wow, I should really trim Lily's back nails." But mostly it's just "AAAAUUGGHHH!!"
Next came inspecting the damage.
Now, you might recall that John tends to faint at the sight of other people's blood, so because he was standing nearby, and also because I am a thoughtful, self-sacrificing kind of wife, I thoughtfully and self-sacrificially popped my boob out of my shirt and screamed, "OH MY GOSH IT'S BLEEDING RIGHT FROM THE TIP! LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT THIS!! AAAAUUUGGHHH!!"
After leaving John to his breathing exercises, I next discovered that it's surprisingly difficult to stick a band aid to an injured nipple. Without getting too graphic, let's just say the architecture of an ever-changing landscape poses unique challenges to the bandage-adhering process. Picture a really floppy teeter-totter. Or, on second thought, don't. You're better off that way.
Still, even the most painful situation can have a silver lining. In this case, I think I've finally figured out the purpose of all that impractical boob armor out there:
These chicks totally have cats.