Pokey nipples

I’ve been spending a lot of time looking at pokey nipples recently.

No, I haven’t reverted to puberty.

I have been trying to find examples of artistically composed partly exposed breasts as inspiration for an upcoming photographic project I’ve been working on.

But really. It has been hard work. There is so much awful stuff out there. And I just have to wonder about why we have to be so fascinated either by the slightest hint of an exposed nipple or the outline of a nipple exposed through a tight fitting top.

To get some sense of an answer I had to take myself back to my own adolescence and I think it has to do with our (men’s) early teenage experience of breasts.

When we play as children to see a girl playing without a top on is a non-event. We don’t even think about it. In that respect, girls are no different to boys at that age. There is a bit of stuff about “girl germs” and “boy germs” but a lot of young boys have a girl as their best friend. Most families don’t have any problem at all with putting their very young daughters in the bath at the same time as their very young sons.

As our children get a bit older we teach them it’s not appropriate to expose their genitals, but there’s no problem with chests.

But then puberty happens.

All of a sudden we can’t have a girl as our best friend. Barriers begin to develop between girls and boys. Between young men and young women.

From our (boys’) perspective there are all these changes happening to our “girl” friends and we are not allowed to know about what’s happening. They start developing breasts and wearing bras – it’s a whole area of human experience of which we are denied any understanding. At least initially.

Girls become embarrassed to talk about their bodies. Particularly their breasts and anything to do with them.

So we boys learn to be sneaky to satisfy our curiosity. And, at first, it is just curiosity. We would just like to know about what’s happening. What do breasts actually look like. What is it like to have breasts. What’s it like to wear a bra.

In time, this sneakiness becomes second nature. Most of us learn to steal a look without being too obvious about it.

All this leads us to nipples.

We learn that we are actually allowed to see the whole of a breast – except for the nipple. Girls are allowed to wear the briefest of bikinis as long as their nipple is not exposed. And if it does happen to pop out, even for the briefest moment, it is the most embarrassing moment on earth for the girl and the most exciting thing on earth for the boy.

Nipples then, become the goal. Sure some cleavage is great but a nipple is just the best. And so, we learn to see any sight of a nipple as the greatest prize available to us. Even if we don’t see the bare skin of a nipple but see its shape poking through your top, that’s a prize of sorts.

Unfortunately we spoil it all for ourselves by making our appreciation too obvious. In response you (women) learn to wear bras that hide your nipple and that it is a mortal sin to be seen, shock horror, without a bra even under thick clothing.

I don’t know if I have answered any questions here. Perhaps though it might be the start of a discussion.

A nipple is a nipple is a nipple

Goodness gracious me. When is the world going to stop acting like it is inhabited only by teenage boys?

Chrissy Teigen has apparently committed an unforgivable sin – posting a photo of herself on Instagram in which, if you look carefully, you can see her nipple.

From the reaction in the fashion press, you would think the world was going to come to an end.

Her response “A nipple is a nipple is a nipple.” Ho-hum. And so it should be. Any guy who wants to see a nipple can sneak a peek by looking in the mirror.

There’s even stupid commentary such as “it’s not the first time she has bared some flesh.”


Here is the terribly offensive post:


bae whatever that is

View on Instagram



Read more in the Huffington Post.

What happened when a woman walked around Montreal topless?

The answer: nothing much really.

  • She wasn’t arrested.
  • The sky didn’t fall in.
  • There was no mass chaos.
  • Just a woman walking around topless.

Here’s the story in the Huffington Post.


It seems so perfectly natural although we congratulate Lili for her courage.

It’s not up to us men to suggest that more women follow Lili’s lead, and Breaststories certainly does not want to suggest this so more men can perv, but we really do believe the world would be a better place if we could let go of our obsessions and hangups about breasts.







What’s it really like to have breasts?

Bare Reality is an art and social project exploring how women feel about their breasts. 100 women bare all, bravely sharing un-airbrushed photographs of their breasts alongside personal stories about their breasts and their lives. A Kickstarter campaign launches on 6th September to fund the production and printing of a book to conclude the project.

Please check out this project. I sure you will want to support it.


What’s it like to have big breasts?

Ok, we guys find breasts fascinating. We find big breasts especially fascinating. Not necessarily because we like big breasts better than small breasts but because they sort of grab your attention. They stand out, as it were.

However, what’s it like to actually have big breasts?

Here’s an article from Men’s Health discussing the issue from a woman’s perspective.

It starts out:

I have had large  breasts for about 20 years. I’m 32, so let’s say, roughly, that my breasts were on their path to greatness halfway through the Carter administration. By the time Reagan was sworn in, I was officially stacked.

and ends:

Let’s cut a deal. We’ll wear nothing but low-cut shirts… if you promise to listen to everything we say when we’re wearing them.

I could easily copy and paste the whole article here but you can just as easily go and read it yourself.

It’s not the most profound article I’ve read on the subject but its written in a nice breezy style and honest without lecturing. For most guys I suspect that it will be eye opening – and I don’t mean eye popping.


I really don’t understand

It’s only a brief encounter. You have just walked into the waiting room at the railway station. As so often happens my internal radar picks up breasts in the vicinity straight away. Your t-shirt top is not that low cut but low enough to be very attractive. I wonder if you sometimes/often hate the attention your breasts draw.

I really don’t understand my own reaction even though I know it well. If I could, I would find a seat opposite you on the train and just stare at your breasts. I won’t but if you were sitting opposite me on the train I would find it really hard not to look. I would probably steal quite a few glances over the course of our journey.

I wish I wouldn’t. I wish I could sit opposite you and not look at your breasts once. Well of course I could if I really wanted to. If there was a “breast guard” ready to shoot me if I gave them even the briefest glance, I would make sure I didn’t. Not that I even need that. I could just determine to myself I wasn’t going to look. But it would be really hard. There would still be this part of me that really wanted to. Just like that part of me that finds it hard to resist that second piece of chocolate cake.

In the end though, as many times as a I think about it, I still don’t understand. I guess in some ways it’s nice that there is l’difference. It’s all about what we do with it.

Itty Bitty Titty Committee

I’ve recently been spending some time on Tumblr. Fascinating place – although I’m still getting used to how to navigate it. Some aspects of it are quite confusing to the uninitiated.

Regardless I’ve just come across a tumblr blog run by a Alex(andra) called the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. Alex regards herself as having itty bittiies. I love her blog. It exists as a place for members of the ITBC to how their pride in their small dimensions. There are text entries as well as photos. It’s just amazing to see how beautiful these women are. Not that I have ever though women with small breasts were not beautiful. It’s just seeing the whole collection of them that is amazing.

Some of the stories are quite touching as well.

Here is my first post on the ITBC:

I am a hopeless, self-confessed boob man. I just love breasts. I think they represent something really special about a woman. Having said this, I want to say, almost shout, that I love itty bittys as much as any other size. I am almost heartbroken when I read of women who think they are less attractive because they have small breasts. Over my life I have “fallen in love” with several girls/women who have had no noticeable breasts at all. The first two were when I was at high school and at a distance. I never really had any sort of relationship with them. Since then there have been other women I have been extremely attracted to and become very who have had very tiny breasts and one who describes herself as “having no bust at all.” When I first met my partner (and mother of our four daughters) she would have qualified as “itty bitty”. – although I never ever thought of her like that.

Looking at the photos on this blog I continue to be amazed at how beautiful the women in them are. I read somewhere recently “men just love to be in the company of a naked woman.” It’s really true.

Finally I’d like to say I am slightly disturbed when women refer to themselves by their bra size – and when men ask. A woman’s bra size can change a lot depending on the style and make of bra. Other factors can make her breasts get larger or smaller. So I’d rather just refer to women perhaps as being petite. Surely that’s all we need.

Go check it out.

Breasts are really nice

Oh dear, I wish we men could talk about breasts both more openly and more respectfully.

I’m in the process of writing a story about me teenage experience with breasts – and all my teenage experiences of breasts were at a distance.

I’ve been noticing two distinct reactions I had. There were those I had at the beach – where topless sun baking was just becoming quite popular – or where I saw a woman with a low cut top or even, occasionally, a nude woman on TV. Oh, yes, I forgot. There were photos of women in magazines – some of which I owned. These sights were incredible arousing and powerful. The feelings they brought up in me seemed almost uncontrollable. I say almost but I knew they were controllable and my desire to respect women was developing just as strongly at this time.

There was another type of reaction though. I remember this most distinctly seeing a woman wearing a thick woollen jumper with the shape of her breasts noticeable but not overpowering. This brought up a quite different kind of feeling. It made me feel warm. I guess it made me think of woman as mother/nurturer/protector. To be in the presence of a woman dressed like this was really nice and made me feel gentle. I thought of woman as both extremely powerful and at the same time extremely delicate.

In the course of research for this blog – and what other reason could I possible have – I review posts about breasts fairly regularly and many of these posts come with pictures. Indeed many of them have very few words indeed. Recently I have come across a couple of shots of slightly older women lying top-free on their backs. This sight has brought out the same feeling of gentleness. Perhaps because in this situation the woman is allowing herself to be vulnerable and if were there I would want to respect this so that she feels safe.

I’ve written before that I think breasts have become, for western men, a symbol of womanhood. Breasts bring up most of the same complex reactions that women do for us.

For the moment though, I just want to say breasts are nice.

Oh that maxi dress is beautiful

Oh, that maxi dress you are wearing is beautiful.

I love the sort of halter top part. I say sort of because it’s not a straight halter top. Interesting. The shoulder straps form a deep v at the front – ok not halter at all you say. But just where the straps join the dress itself is another set of straps that cross over and give the impression of being a halter dress. So there is a diamond formed by the straps at the front which frames the space between your breasts. I hate the word “cleavage.” To me it implies a showy-ness that is not at all the impression you have.

Yes the dress is cut deeply at the front and the fabric wraps snugly against your (obviously braless) breasts. Then you have a short black knitted bolero top covering not much more than your shoulders. With your black hair tied back from the front the overall effect is quite lovely. Almost stunning, but just slightly understated.

Lovely to see you.


I don’t really have much time for Valentine’s Day. Just another commercially organised event to get us spending money.

But today I heard Eve Ensler speaking to Margaret Throsby about the V-Day movement founded by Eve.

Quite a moving interview.

V-Day is celebrated on the 14th February each year and the “V” stands for Victory, Valentine and Vagina. (Ensler first major work was The Vagina Monologues.) The movement is about Victory over violence to women.

Now that’s something I can get excited about.

Head on over and sign up.