The Napkin Diaries

Every couple of years I get another urge for a new piercing. I've been doing this for the past 10 years. When I was 16, I got a belly ring... sorry Mom. At 18 I attempted a tongue piercing, however the piercer effed up and I was left with a hole in my tongue instead of a piece of metal...sorry Mom. Around year 22, I opted for the tragus piercing and about a year later I followed up with a rook piercing. As history proved, it's been a few years and thus the piercing bug has come back to pay me a visit. But what the hell was I going to pierce? I'd run out of ear space and there was no way in hell anyone was piercing my downstairs. I'd always thought I could completely rock a nose ring... but at 26 years old? Could I get away with it? Was I too old? Would my co-workers declare me clinically insane and insist that I see a shrink for my quarter-life crisis? Then I remembered something: I'm Nicole. Fucking. (Cononie). I CAN rock a nose ring. And I WILL.

So, the evening of Saturday May 9th, Husband I went out for burgers and beers at Poe's on Sullivan's Island. Luckily, 3 Magic Hat beers came with that burger of mine. After a while, Husband was like "Come on, let's go."

"Where?"
"To get your nosed pierced."

"Holy shit. Okay!" And so we went to Piercing Perfection (cue angelic hums). I pictured a giant halo over the building with little pierced angels floating around. Okay, so it was more like just a boring brick square with a scraggly palm in front, but if they insist on perfection, then I'm willing to give them a try.

So we actually misread the site info and thought they were open until 9 - we were mistaken; they were only open until 8. Crap! I was totally going to lose my nerve if I had to drive all the way back the next day. So we started to turn around and a guy came out and asked us if we were, indeed, visiting Piercing Perfection to obtain a piercing. Why yes, yes we were. And he reopened the shop for us at 8:20. Sweet.

I signed my life away and took a seat in the yellow room. I happened to be wearing my beach-cover-up-turned-dress that night that was the same color. I was nearly camouflage in the most obnoxious yellow color there is. Only me. Hey, as I like to say and promote: Tacky is the new black.

I had to sit sideways so that Mr. Piercer could shove metal through my face. God, why do I sign up for this crap?! (It took us 3 tries to get the Sharpie dot in the perfect place, since after all, we were at Piercing Perfection.) I gripped onto the seat with both hands and squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted no part in actually viewing what he was going to stick in my face. First, he shoved a cork up my right nostril. It felt like it was about the size of a quarter. I was certain that he'd never be able to get it back out. Then he started with the "okay now take a deep breath."

Oh shit, here it comes.

"Okay take another deep breath."

Damnit! I thought he was going to pierce me on the first breath. Ugh, now I have to breath again. And then it happened. Metal.through.face. I involuntarily snotted and cried at the same time. Sorry Mr. Piercer. He wiggled that giant cork out of my nose and then asked if I was okay. I think my eyes were still squinted shut and I was still not breathing so his question cued me to view and breathe. The color then returned to my face. Oooh and now I have a shiny little sparkle on the side of my face. Preeeetty.

At first glance, I thought my piercing was giant. I was like "ohmygod, this stupid shiny dot takes up my whole nose. Bad decision. Very very bad." Then I stared at it for the rest of the weekend. Then I stared at it for the rest of the week. And now I love it. Excellent decision. Very very excellent.

I was right: I CAN rock a nose ring. And I AM.