part 1. the man with the asymmetrical nipples

Maybe not on the level with the discovery of the wheel, electricity, or the first successful combination of peanut butter and jelly, but today was significant. Large. It happened, as events of this magnitude tend to happen, just as I stepped out of the shower this morning. I grabbed a towel. I toweled off.  I wrapped the towel around my waist.  All very standard operating stepping-out-of-the-shower procedure. I started brushing my teeth.  Suddenly every ounce of the minty freshness coursing through my mouth went sour. I spat. I blinked a few times, rubbed my eyes. I straightened up, thinking perhaps it was merely an illusion brought about by poor posture. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I turned left, right. I traced an imaginary line across my chest. I walked away from the bathroom mirror. I paced. I returned to my reflection. Blinked again. Leaned forward until my head rested against the mirror. This cannot be. Not me. Not me. Not me. The truth, however, was incontrovertible: my nipples did not occupy the same horizontal plane. I was uneven, crooked and absurd. Freakish. A monster by millimeters. A cubist nightmare sent to haunt the earth. An modern day elephant man. Edward Scissornipples.

How could this disfigurement have escaped my notice until now? Could there be others? Others who roam the shadows, desperate to conceal the shame of the slightly askew nipples emblazoned across their chests, these messily embroidered scarlet letters? But, how to find them? Where do I go from here?

Only one thing is certain: Nothing will ever be the same.

To demonstrate the gravity of this episode, I’ve appropriated the following time line.