‘Nipples for Jesus’

As summer kicks off and the Blue Bell ice cream recall is behind us, I have been forced to recall another Blue Bell incident. Just so you know, I love ice cream as much as the next person. However, I can’t eat it without glancing down at my nipples. Yes, I’m aware that this is weird, but there’s no one to blame but the ice cream man. 
I need to be honest, though; Ice cream messes with my head. I mean…I try not to let it get to me, but in a way it still makes me feel betrayed and unappreciated.
It was the damn Blue Bell ice cream man I had started dating who caused me to question these nips.
You see…I was blessed with ample-sized boobs at a young age. I even acquired the nickname “Bumpers” while in high school. I had grown used to the unwanted attention that large boobs bring and I had never thought to question my breasts in any way until the ice cream man claimed he had a vision from God.
He came twice a week, to deliver ice cream to the cafeteria where I worked. I heard all about him before I ever laid eyes on him. He was quite the topic of gossip among the nurses.
I went to grab a cup of coffee one day, and there he was…smiling, flirting and delivering his goods.
Let me just say, every description the nurses used describing him was accurate. He was charming and handsome in a rugged, sexy kinda way. Standing well over six feet, he towered over me. He knew what he was doing: a splash of cologne, tight Wranglers, he was nobody’s fool. Oh, did I mention his snug uniform shirt that wrapped around his huge arms. He had gorgeous chocolate eyes with an innocent boy look…but I knew better. He looked yummy…like he stepped right out of a Marlboro cigarette commercial, complete with mustache. Ice Cream Man and I became instant friends.
During that time in my life, it was “look, don’t touch.” I was a good girl (nothing like I am now). I was on the church pew three or four times a week and twice on Sundays. I was young and saving myself for the man Jesus brought me.
After a few encounters, Ice Cream Man and I went on a date—nowhere fancy, of course, just the local Dairy Queen for some…you guessed it…ice cream.
Soon enough we were going on a real date. Our conversations consisted of heaven, sin, salvation and all the usual stuff one discusses when trying to stay out of hell. It was not long and he announced he was going to go to church…that way we could see each other even more.
That first day of church, he walked in the back door with his tight jeans, bible in hand, and headed straight for the front pew. He was absorbing everything religion had to offer. Within a two-month period, he was ready to be baptized and saved.
Late one night the phone rang; his tone was different…way more serious this time. Straight to the point. “I’ve been praying a lot,” he said. “Do you know the role of a submissive woman?”
“Kinda,” I said, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. However, as he spoke it did not take long to realize he had been listening to some of the older men in the church. Those men always took submissive scriptures way too far. By this time, Ice Cream Man’s religious chatter was starting to get annoying.
Soon after our third real date (without church folks tagging along), things began to get even stranger. Before I could get in the truck, he had already dived head first into a deep conversation about a woman’s role in religion, family and to her husband—this coming from a man who had been attending church a few months.
Within moments of opening his mouth, he began to question my personal spirituality. Not the smartest move on his part. Needless to say, things quickly spiraled south.
“I had a vision last night,” he announced.
‘Damn, stop the presses…new guy sees the light!’ I thought.
“Ummm…okay,” I mumbled.
“Yeah, I need to ask you a question, but I’m not sure how you’ll respond,” he said.
“Okay, just ask.”
“Can we pray together first? Then I need you to do something for me,” he said. He grabbed my left hand and held it gently in his.
I knew right then that sh@# was about to get real. I braced myself for what came next.
“Well, you know I’ve been changing my life for Jesus and you, right?”
I nodded.
“I’m working on becoming a Christian now,” he said.
I nodded again.
“Please don’t think I’m crazy,” he started, “but last night a woman came to me in a vision. She had huge, beautiful breast with large gorgeous nipples. I believe God was showing me my wife.”
At that point, I wasn’t sure I was hearing him correctly.
“OMG, are you kidding me?” I shouted.
He interrupted me. “I know this is a weird request, but it was you in my vision. Please, please, please, don’t be offended, I just need confirmation, just a quick peek that’s all.”
What the hell! Did this man not know my nipples were for Jesus’ eyes only? I mean, except for the occasional glance in the girls’ locker room at school and sharing a bedroom with my sisters, my nips were off limits!
Oh, but he didn’t stop there. “I feel our relationship can go no further until I know 100 percent that it was you. Honey, I won’t think any less of you…I promise.”
“Stooooooppp!” I shouted. “You can’t be for real right now!”
He patted my hand as a sign of reassurance.
“Just listen,” he continued. “Jesus gave me a sign. The woman had your hair, your body, but her face was covered. She walked towards me with her breasts fully exposed; her nipples were beautiful. Trust me, I really believe it was you.”
What the hell? Had he lost his mind? He was using Jesus to see my nipples? He actually thought I was buying his story. Like I’d be popping a boob out any minute to confirm his heavenly vision. I mean what would he had said if it was the wrong boob?
“Are you being serious right now?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said with anticipation.
I was suddenly having trouble filtering the flood of vulgar language going through my mind. As if that wasn’t enough, Ice Cream Man reached over with his free hand and tried to unbutton my shirt.
I felt like I was losing my mind; it got creepy real fast. Like Momma would say, “Sh$# definitely hit the fan.”
Surely, this was a bad dream. Everything I had for Ice Cream Man quickly froze up. Every Marlboro fantasy shattered. Suddenly, I realized he was the full package deal, but he was suffering from a steady meltdown.
What was this craziness? I would have never asked to see his junk, nor would I have reached out to grab it. Besides, I had never heard of Jesus asking for a show of nipples as validation. I mean ‘helloooo‘, Jesus made us…he knows exactly what our nipples look like!
As I broke free from his grip and jumped out of the truck, I leaned in and said, “You could have just asked, why did you put Jesus in the middle of it?”
It’s true. He would have been better off just asking to see “the girls.” I may have given into his southern charms. But when you throw Jesus in the middle of something like that, you need to ask him to prepare the other person first. I wonder how he would have felt if I had said that a naked man came to me in a vision and now I needed to see his ‘package’ to make sure it was him.
Hell! Who am I kidding? He was a man…without hesitation he would have whipped it out.
So, just like that, I have a Blue Bell ice cream, hang-up. I can’t enjoy that delicious chocolate chip mint ice cream without fighting off my own meltdown. I’ll admit, there’s times that I stand in front of the mirror topless, with a gallon of ice cream in my hand and wonder what he was hoping to see that day. I’m not sure if I would have measured up, would my boobs have been perky enough or my nibbles gorgeous enough. I’m not sure what he was expecting but I do know he didn’t get to use Jesus for a free peep show. Some weird part of me hopes Ice Cream Man found those beautiful nips in his vision and another part of me hopes they are covered with hair!

3 thoughts on “‘Nipples for Jesus’

  1. That story is just amazin’. I fell to my knees immediately and prayed for you honey. I don’t care who he was, I just can’t muster another lick of Blue Bell ice cream. I went “straight” ( wrong) to the freezer like a mad man and started whipping out every Blue Bell container I had. I have some kids down the street from Kenya, and I brought it all to them in the name of the Lord. They were quite hesitant at first because I seemed like a Preacher of Prey to them. Then all of a sudden, like a demon in the night, God gave me a plan. Just rip the lid off one of the Blue bells and put it on my finger… before you know it… I had 7 of them licking right out of the containers. I ran, because I knew I done my glory callin’. On my way home, I had a new neighbor ( Gorgeous specimen ) say, “Hey, you want some coffee?”- I quickly replied, ” No thanks, just got rid of several sins, not interested in startin’ another one…” I am Victorious… Praise B. God … Yes, I am considering legally changing my name. Moral of the story? Even though it’s hot outside, don’t put you mouth on nuttin’ … Thanks Sister T’Louise for spreadin’ the Gospel today!

    Liked by 1 person

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