Back in mid-2006, when I was newly pregnant with Catie, my morning sickness was triggered by weird things. One of the things that made me feel like I was going to puke? Wearing earrings. I’d had pierced ears since the fourth grade, and suddenly that simple act of putting on earrings – like I’d done every day for 20 years – made me feel like I was going to hurl.
So I stopped wearing earrings while I was pregnant. And then I had a baby. And babies are kind of jerks about the whole grabbing-and-yanking thing. So I continued to not wear earrings.
Cut to present day: my ear holes (heh, I said “holes”) healed over a long time ago. I had been thinking about getting them re-pierced at some point, but just kept procrastinating about it.
Then my sister mentioned that she wanted to get matching earrings for all of her bridesmaids. So, time for procrastinating to end.
Only, the thought of going to see some teenager with an earring gun at my local mall’s Claire’s store sounded horrifying to my 37 year-old self.
Which is how, this past Saturday, I ended up in a place like this.
My local neighborhood tattoo shop has a trained piercer on staff, and it’s a place where I knew I wouldn’t get hepatitis or lord-know-what-else. And the piercer guy (whose name I’ve totally forgotten) just happened to be my age. And cute. And flirty. And he told me I smelled good. And I had a little moment there where I vividly remembered how much I loved all of the tattooed bad boys when I was in my 20s.
Then, you know, I remembered that I’m a single mom of 2 kids in the suburbs and that isn’t my life anymore. And I also have an awesome (non-tattooed) boyfriend who flirts with me and tells me that I smell good all the time. So, whatever. It was a nice little visit down memory lane, then I gave the guy a nice tip for his work and left with my newly re-pierced ears.
I kind of dig it. And the best part, no teenagers with earring guns were involved at all.