nip nip nippley nipples!

"What's the deal with your nipples?" he asks.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, they sort of stick out."
I look him in the eye.
"Toph, I want to tell you something. I want to tell you about my nipples. I want to tell you about my nipples, and generally about the nipples of the men in our family. Because someday, son, someday my nipples will be your nipples. Someday you too will have nipples that protrude unnaturally far from your chest, and which will harden at the slighest provocation, preventing you from wearing anything but the heaviest cotton T-shirts."
"No way."
"Yes, Toph," I say, looking out to the ocean thoughtfully, seeing the future. "You will inherit these nipples, and you will inherit a scrawny, rib-showing frame that will not at all fill out until your early twenties, and puberty will hit you impossibly late, and soon the beautiful blond straight hair that you like so much, that you wear long and which helps you look like the young River Phoenix, this hair will thicken, harden, darken, and curl so tightly and wildly that when you wake up you will appear to have permed your hair three times and then ridden for six hours in a convertible. You will slowly grow ugly, with skin riddled with acne so persistent that on top of the general zittiness that will roughen your cheeks and chin, you will get red skin-globules - your dermatologist will call them 'cysts' - that will every other week set up shop in the crevice above your nostril, and will be so large and so red that strangers at twenty yeards will gasp, small children will point and cry -"
"No."
"Yes."
"No way. I'll be different I bet."
"Pray for it."

-an excerpt from "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by Dave Eggers.