I've come to a realization that I am ridiculously attached to a piece of metal.
Or, um, not a piece of metal so much as a hole. A hole in my nose, to be exact.
I've had my nose piercing for over three years. I pierced it in April 2003, partially on a whim, partially to prove to myself that I wasn't a huge wuss. I didn't expect the piercing to last too long. I figured once my mom saw the stud gleaming on my face I was a goner. Instead she gave a small smile and said that it didn't deter from my "beautiful face like I feared it would have."
And I think that's partially why I grew to love the little piercing so. It was small, it was understated, it had a "look-at-me!" quality about it without it screaming that I was a punkish freak. It gave me a bit of an edge without making old people click their tongues or teens roll their eyes.
Plus, admittedly, it made me feel edgy and hot. I glance at myself while putting on mascara or doing my hair and see the little glint from the stud nestled in my nose and I'd think "yeah, I braved a sharp needle. Bring it, world." It was like a little public service announcement to myself that I was brave.
So for three years the little stud stayed. It accompanied me on my London adventures; it stuck by me as judging relatives conversed with me at church and family functions; it gleamed on as I struggled through my first months in the real world; it's seen my transitions throughout college, graduation and beyond.
I didn't realize how attached I was to the little thing, though, until I was informed a few weeks ago that my piercing was against company policy. It was in that moment, in a stuffy little office, in the late afternoon that realization was born that I didn't want to get rid of it.
At first I thought that I could just take it out during the day and wear it at night--a twentysomething's version of orthodontia nightwear. That theory quickly crashed and burned when I had to hastily take out the stud during work hours and forgot to put it back in until nearly 12 hours later, leaving the piercing to start closing in. I discovered that having to repierce my nostril with a blunt stud over the course of two hours (because it was that stubborn) isn't my idea of a fun Friday night. Friday nights should be filled with drinks and dancing, not sobbing and quick pleas to the baby Jesus to help heal a nostril in pain.
The prayers worked, though, because the piercing remains intact (although my left nostril was sore for an entire week). Once the stud was snuggly back in place, it dawned on me how much I didn't want to give up the piercing. It was as much a part of me as my hair or hips. I'm not ready to bid au revoir to it quite yet. So today I took a deep breath, marched into the goth cave that is Hot Topic and talked to a worker about invisible studs. Though it can't gleam and let the world know that I'm a badass (or at least not a big wuss), I still know that it's there. It might be incognito now, but it still serves as a public service announcement to me that there's a little rebel inside of this corporate climber.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~