Mr Nipples

I have a great friend. I call him Mr Nipples. The reason I call him that is simple. He thinks he has weird puffy nipples and is determined to have surgery to rectify his unfortunate teat problem. But there is a problem with his problem. There is nothing wrong with his nipples. They are pefectly normal. He hasn't got man boobs or even man bumps. A baby pig would not squeal for his teat. His male breast is more armour breast plate than female boobie. Yet he is pursuing a plastic surgeon. But in his search for this imaginary scapel swiped cure he is geographically looking in the wrong place. He needs to head north, away from the pink flesh and into the grey matter. If he gets his mind right and realises the truth, that his nipples are correct in every way, then he won't be so willing to psychologically fall on a sword daily as he looks in the mirror, let alone fall on a scapel to physically remove his non-existent puffy nipples. I think maybe calling him Mr Normal Nipples might help him along his way.