[June, 1987] Holes in My Ears
today I got my ears pierced. It hurt a little but it’s worth it.
It only took a little over a year, but I got my nerve back and decided a little pain was worth a lifetime of accessorizing. The way I remember it, my parents took me to a costume jewelry shop akin to Claire’s and I picked out a pair of studs. My earlobes were first dotted with a felt-tip pen, then I felt the brief sting of the piercing gun twice, and then my days of clip-ons were over.
That’s not how my mother tells it.
I got the beginning part right, but when that first post cut through the tender skin of my earlobe, according to my mother I let out a shriek so loud I scared the other customers in the store. Allegedly, I cried out in agony and stubbornly refused to get my second ear pierced. If you care to believe my mom’s version, she says it took a good 15 minutes for her and my father to calm me down and convince me that I would look silly going around with an earring in one ear and a black dot where the other stud should be.
Being a sucker for logic (and symmetry), I allowed the woman in the woman in the store to pick up her instrument of torture and finish the job, suffering quietly through the rest of the procedure. A mirror was held before me so that I could see the results.
Whatever pain I felt vanished the second I saw the sparkle of those stones in my earlobes. So pretty! I turned my head back and forth to watch them glimmer and smiled.
When friends asked, I told them it didn’t hurt that much. And apparently, I lied about it to my diary, too.
The set-up: Read my old diary entries annotated with (witty?) present-day commentary.
The time: 1985-onward
The point: Entertainment (let's hope!)
The warning: the contents of this blog may contain bad spelling, foul language, inordinate amounts of angst, run-on sentences, excessive commentary on boys, questionable music choices, delusions of grandeur, and the abuse of exclamation marks.
(names have been changed, so don't sue!)