Guess what! You guys! You wanna know what I'm doing this weekend? Something I've wanted to do for ages and ages and like, forever and now I'm totally gonna do it?
I'm getting my EARS PIERCED.
Okay, so I'm kind of messing with you there, because my ears are already pierced. Several times, actually. I think my total was...squints at ghosts of piercings past on earlobe...five. Five holes. I got my ears pierced the first time in fourth grade, even though my agreement with my parents was and had always been that I could get them pierced at 12 years old. By fourth grade, though, I was one of only two girls without pierced ears and UTTERLY DESPERATELY MISERABLE.
I wore those little sparkly sticker things? Every day? I even kept extras in my desk because they NEVER lasted the whole day and otherwise people would know that I was just wearing STICKERS and not REAL EARRINGS because I was totally and completely FOOLING EVERYBODY, SHUT UP I WAS.
Then at home, I waged a relentless campaign of begging, pleading and probably a lot of door-slamming of the YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE variety. I think we eventually negotiated a deal surrounding the results of my next report card, or maybe that was just a cover so my parents could get me to shut the fuck up about it already while still keeping some pride and sense of parental control intact.
And so I went with my mom to the mall and picked out the most beautiful birthstone-ish jeweled studs and BLAMMO, I was a girl -- nay, a WOMAN -- with pierced ears. And oh my God, they hurt like all hell.
Then the 90's...happened, and you simply couldn't show your flannel-shirted self ANYWHERE with just one measly set of ear holes. You needed MORE, and you needed an ODD number because that was the only way to demonstrate your ANGST. So I got one more, because that was all my mom would pay for.
(Then I got a job at Sesame Place and went all hardcore with two more holes once I was of legal age to get my ears pierced without a parent present.)
(Problem was that I still lived at home. So I still totally got in trouble for that.)
Anyway! So why in sam hill am I getting my ears pierced this weekend? Because apparently I have the earlobes of an old lady. My first set of holes -- the only ones that I actually wear earrings in anymore -- were always a little on the lower part of my earlobe, and in recent years have DRIFTED. DOWNWARD. I am not making this up. The holes are mere millimeters from the very bottom of my earlobe. Any type of dangly earring accentuates the unfortunate droopy-hole problem. (And I will have you know that I was not allowed to wear dangly earrings -- INCLUDING HOOPS OF ANY SIZE -- until junior high)
Not only does it look pretty weird, in my opinion, it also triggers one of my All Time Top 10 Irrational Fears: that my earring will somehow get ripped out of my ear and split my earlobe in half. Y'all know volcanoes are my number-one Irrational Fear, followed by getting caught up in a case of mistaken identity and wrongfully convicted of murder.
Irrational fear number three? The earlobe-ripping thing.
Anyone who has ever met me at Blogher or in person otherwise can tell you that I have little to no problems with personal space invasion. I'm a hugger. I hug you; don't mind getting hugged back. I like smushing up against people when photos get taken. But so help me GOD, if I think for even a split second that you are going to touch my ears or earrings, I will fly into a crazy defensive fit because DON'T RIP MY EARLOBE I AM BEGGING YOU PLEASE.
When Noah was a toddler, we were eating out at a restaurant and I bent over to retrieve his toy from the floor. At some point he reached over from his high chair and touched my earring. I flipped out, slapped both hands over my ear and then completely lost my balance and fell off my chair. Flat on the floor. But at least my earlobe was okay.
Okay, I KNOW. Why do I bother wearing earrings at all? Wouldn't just not wearing earrings be a good, practical solution here?
I hear you. I do. But here's the problem with that: SHUT UP. EARRINGS ARE PRETTY.
So anyway, according to Google, the too-low ear piercing thing actually isn't that unusual, and it happens to a lot of women after awhile. And getting them re-pierced higher up is absolutely an option, at least according to all the wedding message boards I came across, because apparently once you're done obsessing over your dress and flowers and bridesmaids, it's time to start freaking out about your less-than-optimal ear-hole placement that could potentially TOTALLY RUIN THE WHOLE DAY.
Thus, I am publicly stating my intention to allow another human being to touch my earlobes this weekend and re-pierce them. Though I do have to ask: are my venue choices still really the same as before? Do I still really have to go find a kiosk at the mall or wander into Claire's and ask some surly teenager sorting prom tiaras to please punch holes in my saggy old-lady earlobes? Jason graciously volunteered to do it for me but I am distinctly Not Down with that. I told him I'd prefer a professional, whatever THAT means, though he will definitely need to come and hold my hand.
OMG, I'm totes getting my ears pierced this weekend! Because I can! And because I feel like it and SO THERE EVERYBODY and my fourth-grade self is sooooo jealous of me right now.