"You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart. You’re heading for a breakdown, better pull yourself apart. " - John Cooper Clarke

Todd, N° god knows what.

Last Saturday Todd decided to make an appearance. He sat next to me and chatted a bit and then said:

“Look, mum.”

Todd lifted up his tshirt to show off his third piercing: a nipple piercing.

I grabbed my boobs in case they started hurting and stared at the barbell through my son’s nipple.

“Did that hurt?”
“Ouch, yes – it felt like a dart going through my nipple.”

I clutched my massive bosom even closer to me.

“And now that you’ve been paid for your postman rounds, I suppose that you’ll be saving for the other nipple to be done?”
“Oh no, Mama – that hurt so much that I’ll never have it done again.”

Famous last words.

Feeling some relief, especially when Todd dropped his tshirt down, I felt comfortable and let go of my massive bosom, leaving it to flop on the floor.

But then the final straw came.

“Papa has told me that I need to see a psychologist.”
“What for this time, Todd?”
“He thinks I’m a masochist and should see someone.”

Oh dear. My Ex obviously lives in the 20th century – piercings are a ‘fashion statement’.

Just wait until the boy starts getting tattoos.

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