On Piercings

Starting in fifth grade, I became obsessed with Good Charlotte.  I think I've spoken a little bit about this in previous posts, but my point is different, so bear with me.  On the walls of the room which I shared with my brother at the time, I once counted 146 pictures of members of the band or the band.  It was a little out of hand.  For Halloween, I was a "Good Charlotte stalker" and was offended when people asked me if I was a rock star.  It was pretty bad.

Billy Martin with nose, lip, and eyebrow
piercings.

My favorite member of the band was guitarist, Billy Martin.  He had awesome hair (which I replicated as soon I was brave enough to cut off and donate twenty-four plus inches of hair), awesome guitars (I still want a Paul Reed Smith -- anyone feeling like a guitar donation to your favorite blogger?), and sweet piercings (I liked the tattoos on him, but I would never get one myself).  It was around sixth grade that I decided I wanted a nose piercing, a lip piercing, and an eyebrow piercing.

Well, Mom and Dad said no of course.  I sated myself with just dying my hair unnatural colors for the time being.  I started with and stuck with purple for a long time, then moved onto blue and pink and green and yellow, sometimes a combination of two.

When I was sixteen, I realized I could not get a facial piercing -- no one would hire me if I did.  I mean, I could work at Hot Topic, but the two Hot Topics in my general area were at least twenty minutes away each (closer to a half hour, really, sometimes longer depending on traffic) and I couldn't justify the distance.  If I took a job that far away, I would essentially be paid just enough to pay for gas to get to the job, which defeated a large purpose of having a job in the first place.

I ended up working at a McDonald's that I sold my soul to for minimum wage.  I was told, upon being hired, that I could not have an unnatural hair color.  Desperate for some money, I agreed and dyed it back to a plain brown.

The minute I left McDonald's to go to college, I dyed my hair yellow and purple.  I went in the next day to the place I previously called work as a sort of "ha-ha."  I wasn't laughing so much when I had to go back two years later, desperate for money again and willing to sell my soul for a job even if it was degrading and they made me dye my hair back again -- that time I dyed it black, in mourning of the cute pink that I had to get rid of.

In my first year of college, I once again considered getting the piercings I wanted years previous.  I had at least until Thanksgiving to hide it from my parents, by then the holes might be healed enough to take the piercings out for the week that I would be home.  But I couldn't go behind my parents' backs.  They said no and, even though I was eighteen, I still didn't watch movies I was told I wasn't allowed to watch (including Chicago, which I ended up giving into the next year, because I was twenty and, well -- really?  Chicago?  It was PG-13.  Turns out they didn't care.).  I didn't swear, I did well in school, I called every day, I couldn't go behind their backs for some piercings.  So, even though my roommate went and got a tattoo which she told her mother about after, I did nothing.

I asked Mom and Dad again and I was told that if I did go and get a piercing, they would no longer fund my college tuition.  Now, let's see -- piece of metal on my face or valuable education/piece of paper?  No brainer.

MxPx (Yuri, Mike, Tom)

Last night while listening to MxPx on my computer and just generally being awake and lying in bed, it occurred to me that I had never gotten any of the piercings I wanted.  And I still wanted them.

I thought about how I used to take this small hoop earring that I had that didn't have a sharp end but still went through the pierced hole in your ear and put it over my bottom lip.  There are few times when I will compliment myself but I can tell you this: I can pull off a hoop ring just fine.  Occasionally I tricked people and told them I had gotten a piercing.  Later I'd take it out and show them there was no hole.  Just wishful thinking.

I am twenty-one years old.  I have one year left of college.  After that, it will be even more difficult for me to justify a piercing.  While I think it's possible for a young adult librarian to get away with it (I'm connecting with the kids, what do you want from me?), it wouldn't be easy.  I can't go and get one now because, if things work out, I'll be spending this summer working at the Library of Congress.  I have refrained from dying my hair again for this very purpose.

But maybe, at the end of the summer, I'll get someone to stick a needle through my lip and thread a piercing through.

Because I'm already regretting not just doing what I wanted for once.  I should have done it my first year.  Sorry Mom and Dad -- I'm tired of behaving, and this is hardly committing murder.

Billy Martin image courtesy of Buzznet.
MxPx image courtesy of Fantart.tv.