12% BEER
Damn This Nipple Irritation
  MALE READERS OF LADEELEROY: Pass this one up. It's all about girly crap that you probably don't want to know about... you know... periods... ovulation... panty budgets... that sort of thing. I'll write something for you boyz later. Love you much.... xxoo, Ladeeleroy.

Okay galz....

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

What the hell is going on with them?

Oh my God.

My nipples are so fucking sore. I mean, like SORE.

I can't remember them being this sensitive and fucking sore since I was 14 years old thinking to myself, "Well, shit, it's about time I hit puberty."

What the fuck is going on with them?


It's not my womanly shedding process. That's not for sometime.

No. It's not from getting some nipple action. I wouldn't be complaining if it were some sort of Lipman/Nipple contact sport thing.

I think it may be the fucking hormones.

No. I'm not a tranvestite.

I'm on birth control. Which, if you aren't and you are sexually active, you should get on because the pill is the thrill.

Yes. Practice safe sex.

But stay on the pill for those "I-Just-Ripped-The-Last-Condom-To-Shreds-While-Opening-The-Packet-With-My-Plaque-Infested-Teeth" moments. Not that I've had too many of those. But nonetheless.

So, I was on this one pill. Then I got insurance and the white man who never has to have a child spurt out of his pliable nether regions told me I had to get on this other pill because of a term they like to call "Formulary."

Formulary:(form-you-larry) n.: A term used by insurance companies to describe a list of certain medications that are covered by said insurance company's policy. This list will most likely contain medications that you are allergic to or do not work. In fact, most medications on this formulary list are, in fact, Smarties (the sweet treat enjoyed by all). If you are told that you must choose a medication from a 'formulary' you are being told that your medical preference does not matter, despite the breast acne or mood swings that most medications listed on formulary cause. In other words 'formulary' = fucked up medicine list that you have to stick to or pay a phenominal amount of cash if you decide not to.

So when the formualry pill started making my uterus want to redecorate its interior design every other week, I decided it was time to go with the medication that my doctor had prescribed.

Fuck that formulary shit. I'll pay the damn $29.99 for the pill I am supposed to be on. I've already spent that much on my panty budget.

You guys have a panty budget, right? No? Fuck.

What pill are you on?

Anyway- do you know how much this has fucked up my sense of adulthood? I mean, Jesus. I've had my period for sometime now (since I was 16- yep, late bloomer was I) and one would think that, after having a period about 96 times in your life, you'd get the catch.

For the most part, I've got it down.

But dammit. I've lost many a good pair of panties to those moments that are depicted in Judy Bloom novels:

"Janice, you are my best friend forever."

"You're my best friend Anne Marie. We'll be best friends forever!"

"Janice! Oh my God! You just got your period!"

"I'm a woman now! Hurrah!"

"Oh, Janice, you just totally got womanhood all over your koolats."

"Fuck. This sucks. I wanna eat some fudge and follow it up with a shot of freckle juice."

Anyway. I'm rambling

But- my nipples.


What the hell?

I've been on the new pill for about two weeks now.... not had any problems until last night when I was in the shower lathering it up Ladeeleroy style.


Interior of Ladeeleroy's shower. The air is steamy, the scent of Irish Spring is in the air. Lathering sponge hangs delicately on the shower head.

Ladeeleroy: I love taking showers. It's like a mini-Baptismal, except without all that religon stuff. There's something about just getting yourself clean and refreshened. Ahhh. Breathe in that warm humid air. Ahhh.

Well... enough of this dilly-dallying. Time to later up.

Close up of Ladeeleroy grabbing lathering sponge from hook. She takes her bar of Irish Spring and creates a lather of luxury. Slowly, she soaps up. Starting from the left ankle, covering the leggage area, skipping over the crotch/ass area (as that always comes last), moving to the abdomen, and then to the breasts.










Ladeeleroy: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Oh my God! What the hell!?!?!?!

Ladeeleroy pats nipple tenderly to check and make sure that perhaps use of lathering sponge caused sudden soreness sensation.


Left Nipple: Ow.

Pat. Pat.

Left Nipple: Ow. Ow.

Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat.

Left Nipple: What the fuck? Quit it!

Ladeeleroy: Hm. Maybe it's only the left one... I'll try the right nipp-

Right Nipple: Don't make me come up there and smack you. I'll get all mammary on your ass if you fuck with me.

Ladeeleroy: Oh. We cool. We cool. Sorry.

End Scene.

So I dunno. I'm guessing that it's just something that I'm gonna have to wait out for a bit... wait until my body gets adjusted to what ever flux shit stuff is going on with my hormones right now.

But in the meantime, I think I might just walk around with a Trapper Keeper clutched to my chest. That seemed to help out in Junior High. I don't think it would be too strange now.

Would it?

Dammit all.

This sucks!


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