Dear Vix,
I’m a woman in her 60s with all the usual body confidence issues, even though I know I’ve got admirably supple and blemish-free skin for someone my age (some stretch marks on the love handles, aside).
My divorced friend Harriet (same age) is enjoying a new lease of life, and wants to go on a booze cruise/Milfs-on-tour-type holiday to Spain this summer with all the girls (none of us under 55). She’s
I’m now trying to come to terms with being expected to wear a bikini at my post-menopausal age. Weight and stretch marks I can probably get over – and the hair removal has taken care of itself since I gave up HRT – but there’s one big problem: a third nipple located equidistant between the bra and bikini lines that my husband’s private health insurance won’t stretch to having removed.
Last year, these girls named my birthday WhatsApp group “tripple nipple gizzle”(a reference to my real name) and I’m still fuming. I sweat too much in the heat for a swim garment that’ll cover the offending teat, but Harriet is more fragile than she seems and I think would have an episode if I backed out. What would you do?
Neurotic about nipples
Dear Neurotic about nipples,
The possibility that your letter may have been written in jest crossed my mind – not because I think the subject matter is funny, but because it has everything you could possibly want from a well written, well thought out letter to an agony aunt: older women on a new Shirley Valentine-style lease of life as “Milfs” in Magaluf; a wayward friend, Harriet – with a touch of neurosis – who scrimps and saves to get you all to the beach bar, most likely wearing tassels … and a third nipple. You really couldn’t make it up. And if you did, it would make a damn good screenplay.
With the best will in the world and lots of faith, I’m going to answer you straight. Because whether it is tongue-in-cheek, exaggerated or entirely genuine, there’s absolutely loads we can learn from your question – and a hell of a lot that women “of a certain age” (to paraphrase a certain disgraced TV presenter) can take away.
Let’s do the medical bit first: for anyone concerned or wondering, a “third nipple” is surprisingly common. It’s also known as a supernumerary nipple and usually develops in the womb – in other words, you’re born with it. They can look like small skin tags or moles or they can be a little larger and even have areola around them, or even breast tissue.
There’s nothing you can do about them, except have surgery to remove them. But most of the time, unless it causes you serious anxiety or irritates you in other ways, I really wouldn’t bother. They’re usually entirely harmless, although (as you would with any other mark on your body, such as a mole) I would keep your eye on it and go to your GP if you notice any changes.
Around 200,000 people in the US are thought to have a third nipple, but incidences vary according to ethnicity, sex and geography, not to mention awareness, reporting and detection. There aren’t any conclusive studies or statistics telling us precisely how many people are born with the condition each year, so nobody really knows for sure how many people have them – but we do know that some people have them.
And if you do have one, you’re in good company – Mark Wahlberg, Tilda Swinton, Lily Allen and Bill Paxton have all reportedly got them; as did Matthew Perry’s character Chandler Bing in Friends. Now, don’t you feel special?
You should – or, to put it another way, you shouldn’t feel weird about it. I’m willing to bet that nobody would ever look at you on the beach and zone in on your third nipple, unless they were extremely close up. And those that are likely to be that close to you are people who care about you – your husband, Harriet, the other “Milfs on tour”. I promise that none of them will bat an eyelid. They wouldn’t care if you had a third head (or notice that you did, after a sangria or three).
The only person, in other words, who’s worrying about your body is, well, you. And while I’m not diminishing or invalidating those worries, I do think there’s a lot to be said for letting that kind of crippling, microscopic self-consciousness go once we reach our forties, fifties and sixties. I bet we all spent far too much time in our teens and twenties – and probably our thirties, too – worrying about what we looked like, or panicking because we didn’t feel we had the “perfect” beach-ready body.
To hell with that. Surely one of the benefits of age is that you can look back at photos of yourself when you were younger, and say: What the hell was I so worried about? I was gorgeous! You’ll do exactly the same 10 years from now and beyond – I can guarantee it.
As for now – and this summer – you sound fun and confident and charismatic and bold and independent and fiery. Go forth and conquer Magaluf, Ibiza or Benidorm – don’t hide yourself away (and if you really can’t bear/bare it, try a striking swimsuit).
There’s a reason there’s a campaign called Free the Nipple. It’s time to free yourself from fretting about yours.
The Independent’s agony aunt Victoria Richards is here to help. Email [email protected] for advice on love, work, family and relationships
