💛 I had a third nipple

It's a long story!

You start reading and suddenly find yourself in a fancy lounge. Not that I ever go to fancy lounges… but I do live an hour from downtown Toronto, so I could theoretically go to one. If I stayed up past nine. Or liked loud, crowded spaces. Or had literally any free time.

You look around and feel a wave of excitement when you spot a few of my book characters. Amber’s having drinks at the bar with her sister, Violet—something they try to do at least once a month. The three pastry shifters are planning a surprise for their fated mate, Jessie, at a table in the back. And all the librarians from my Mia Sands books are talking about the crazy things they’ve seen at the library.

You and I grab a table in the middle of the room. Our drinks appear in front of us, and the moment you think of a song, it starts playing on the speakers.

We sit quietly while you pick out the perfect song, but then curiosity gets the better of you.

"So, why are we here?" you ask. "Do you have book news?"

I shake my head and take a sip of my grapefruit cocktail. "I had a third nipple."

You just stare silently at me. To be fair, it is rather an odd thing to say—even if I have spilled a secret or two during our visits in the past.

You're also not sure if I'm serious—I am—and if this is bad news or good—I'm not sure either—or what the right response to such news might be—if you figure it out, let me know.

"It's a long story," I add.

You lean back in your seat. “Good thing I’ve got nowhere to be.”

I love that I can always count on you when I need someone to talk to. It brings a smile to my face, and I happily take another sip of my drink.

I’m also about to launch into my story when the music changes to Let it Go from Frozen.

"Nooooo," I shout, looking slightly horrified. "Please, lounge gods. Turn it off. Turn it off!”

A salsa song comes on instead, and I sigh in relief. "Sorry. Sorry! Mini Mortal has Let It Go playing on repeat for the past month and it keeps getting stuck in my head.

You nod sympathetically, then frown at me. "No changing the subject, Mia. I want to hear about the third nipple."

"Right. That.” I decide to start at the beginning. “When I was in high school, I got a part-time job at the library. I loved books, so it seemed like the perfect place to work. Plus—”

“Mia!”

“Right, the nipple. So one summer, a friend from work—let’s call her Iris—invited me to go swimming in her building pool. This is relevant, I promise."

You nod, not sure where my story is going, but willing to listen. The music and drinks definitely help.

"When I changed into my bikini, Iris spotted this large mole on my chest, and got excited that I have a third nipple, just like Chandler’s. Apparently, she’d never met anyone who had one.

“Now, I wasn’t as obsessed with Friends as she was, but I'd seen enough episodes to know who Chandler was.”

“So I found the episode and my 'mole' did look a lot like Chandler’s third nipple.

You lean forward in your seat. "You didn’t get it checked by a doctor?"

Which is a whole lot more reasonable than consulting 90s sitcoms for medical advice.

“I did. But here's the thing. My parents are immigrants, so they picked a doctor who spoke their native language. I understood enough to get by, so I knew it wasn’t anything to worry about—but he spoke to them, not me, so I mostly just tuned him out. You trust your parents about these things when you’re still a kid. At least, I did.

“So that day at the pool, when Iris diagnosed me with a third nipple… I just took her words at face value. And spent my whole life thinking I had a third nipple, just like Chandler. At least, until last week.”

"What happened?" you ask.

“My 'nipple' started changing color. It developed some black spots, and obviously I freaked out. What if it wasn’t a nipple? What if it was a mole? A change in color was bad. Really bad. And had it gotten bigger? I could swear it had gotten bigger!”

“Oh no. Is it a mole?”

“I was sure that it was, and I was freaking out! I rushed to the doctor the next day, ready for bad news, but guess what? Not a mole. Not a nipple.”

“Really? It’s neither?”

I nod. “It's a skin tag. A giant, dark, nipple-shaped skin tag.” I grin. “I’m just glad it wasn’t the big C. Phew. But my whole life I thought it was a third nipple because a random girl said so. Can you imagine?”

We share a laugh, because it is pretty preposterous.

I sigh. “I told Not a Vampire I had a third nipple the first time we—you know. So he spent our whole 15 year relationship thinking I had a third nipple, too. And all this time it was a skin tag. A useless piece of dead skin I could have had removed.”

"Are you going to have it removed now?”

"Good question.” I shrug. “Maybe? I don't know. I know it’s just a nipple—or not a nipple—but my entire identity is shot. I mean, who am I now? Am I even still me?"

You stare at me for several seconds, trying to figure out if I’m joking. Still unsure, you say, “You are you, no matter how many nipples you have,” you pause. "It is two, right?"

"Yes, obviously it's two!”

You shrug, and we both burst out laughing again.

The music shifts to a J Balvin song, and something about the beat—coupled with the relief that I don’t have a mole—makes me feel like dancing.

I push back my chair. “This calls for a celebration. Come on!”

Amber and Violet are already rocking out to the beat, and even the librarians are letting loose on the dance floor. They wave us over with huge grins.

"Pick the next song," I tell you as we join them. “Just promise me… nothing from Frozen!”

I’m ready to two-nipple dance to whatever you choose.