No. 2: I Got My Ears Pierced...Again (Again)
Flashback to July this past summer, where I am at my cousin Noelle's rehearsal party two days before her wedding. After a few toasts and many conversations about the church's rather strict policies (The groom MUST walk down the aisle, too, it's his day as well! At least according to them.), my cousin presented me, along with the rest of her bridal party, with an adorable tote bag, filled with a few cute gifts. Among them were a gorgeous pair of earrings that she wanted us to wear on the big day. There was just one problem: my ears aren't pierced.
Yes, getting my ears pierced made my list of 30 things to accomplish before turning 30. And at 29, I finally faced the needle. But it wasn't the first time.
When I was in fourth grade, my sister and I were brought to a kiosk in the mall to get our ears pierced. My little sister? Barely made a peep when they pierced her ears. But me? Legend had it that mys screams still echo through that the mall. Mix my intolerance for pain with my tomboy tendencies and you can see why I "accidentally" let my ears close after a few too many infections and one particularly gruesome brawl with my aunt in my grandmother's bathroom when she demanded to look at my infected ear.
Years later, I found the perfect gown for my senior prom. A salmon-colored dress with diamond pins atop each shoulder...that would be perfectly complemented with diamond studs in my ears. Of course. So I went to my local Claire's and let the girl, who was around my age, use a gun to pierce my ears.
Two weeks later, I took them out and let my holes close. Again. Yes, I am the worst. No, my mother was not amused.
So why didn't I want my ears pierced? I wish I had an answer, but I guess they just always seemed like an inconvenience. Or I just thought I always looked weird with earrings on. (Or is it in? See, complicated!) Or maybe it's just I've never been the biggest jewelry person.
But a few months ago, I was shopping at Zara and saw this pair of earrings that stopped me dead in my tracks. My fingers delicately grazed them as I imagined how they would look. Oh well, my ears whispered into themselves, you'll never be able to wear them.
And then a light went off: I was closing myself off to so many possibilities...for no real reason at all. At that moment, I felt truly ridiculous and dumb, immediately deciding it was time to make a change.
Which is how I ended up at a highly recommended/rated piercing place after Googling local Claire's much to horror of my friends, on Dec. 1, with Amy by my side, ready to hold my hand and listen to my obnoxious cursing as each needle went in.
The ironic part? The earrings that started this whole thing sold out before I had the chance to buy them.