this is, if not THE most tragic story of my life, at least in the top five.
it starts back when i was the tender age of five.
i begged and begged and begged my mom from well before the age of five for ONE thing.
PLEASE, PLEASE, can i get my ears pierced?
it was the only thing i wanted. and i had to wait YEARS until i reached the magical age of five, then, if i still wanted to get it done, i could get my ears pierced.
the magical age was finally achieved, and YES, i still wanted to get my ears pierced.
in our little town there was only one place to go- this was LONG before the days of walmart or malls filled with claire's boutiques or anything like that. there was one jewelry store in town that could fulfill a little girls life long dream.
it was called LePlante Jewelry store, located on the main street of town between a furniture store and a bank.
I still remember it exactly(ish) to this day- you walked in the front glass door and there was the never ending jewelry cases down the right side of the building, it always seemed a little dark, probably because there was a warm grey dark paint on the walls with deep red accents.
I got to climb up on the chair next to one of the jewelry cases and pick out my stud earrings (they came in a little pink box which i still have to this day and one of the earrings). They put the little purple dots on my years, made sure they were even, loaded the gun, and BAM: pierced my ears.
I WAS SO EXCITED.
i had no idea the tragedy that had just taken place that would mar me for the rest of my life.
I HAD PIERCED EARS PEOPLE.
BAM.
grown. up. as. fuck.
fast forward to some time in high school when i got a second piercing in each ear, fast forward to college when i got my cartilage (upper ear) pierced, into my late 20's and a nose piercing (twice on that one actually).
even the second set of ears didn't scar me as much as the first experience and on the second ones the gun got jammed and they had to take it all out and start over again (hurt like a bitch by the way).
you see, here's the long hidden, deep, dark, dirty secret that i've kept hidden all these years:
that first experience? the first piercings of my life?
brace yourselves.
they're...*sob*...crooked.
I KNOW, RIGHT?
how have i survived this long?
i don't mean uneven.
i don't mean unevenly spaced.
i mean...CROOKED.
oh, the horror.
i took me into my 30's to be comfortable wearing hoop earrings or anything that dangles because MY PIERCINGS ARE CROOKED. actually, just one, which is totally worse. i think. no basis for comparison really.
i know. you're all reeling from the horror.
we should start a support group or something.
see. back at the tender age of 5 when they initially took the gun to my right ear, they pointed it in (towards my head) instead of straight as far as i can tell.
the result, i'm sure several of you have noticed but have been polite enough to not point out, is that when i wear hoops or dangles or anything besides a stud, my earrings always are half way to flipping around.
it makes it really hard to talk on the phone, turn my head without getting it caught, wear my hair up, in general leave my horrifying mutilation exposed.
i've tried twisting my earrings around to straighten it out. i've thought about gauging so maybe they would hang a little looser and have more room for correction. i've hidden in shame, and finally, i've (mostly) learned to accept that i will never be "normal."
i've learned to accept that fact that my earring backs will always get tangled because they're too close together. i've learned to accept the fact that i have to buy flip closures instead of back closures since they fall off and get lost from being tangled so often.
i've learned that i can still lead a normal(ish) life, even as hard as it is.
i don't know if there's anyone else out there struggling with this. i can understand their shame and desire to hide if they are out there.
but i'm willing to stand up, speak out: I HAVE ONE CROOKED PIERCED EAR AND I'M OK.
well, kinda.
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| see how it's trying to run away from me? |
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