It’s pretty cold in Sydney these days.
For those who have never experienced it here at the ass-end of the world, our winter doesn’t engender the fuzzy, jingle-bell, white-snow kind of feeling that northern hemisphere people are often used to. Our one is more the windy, biting, chill-to-the-bone kind that belies the sunshine above our heads. It is also the only time of the year that reminds me of the fact that I have nipples.
It’s not that the low temperature suddenly makes me beam with pride that I have them. Rather, it makes them beam so high that I wish I didn’t. I’m not sure about other men (as for women, I won’t even go there), but every time I head out for a run during winter, these stiffened nipples of mine rub very uncomfortably against whatever top I am wearing. Continue reading