Twelve Years

That's how long I've had my nose pierced.

A lot has changed since then, and it's left me debating how long I should keep this fashion trend going.
{Kind of like the toe ring I'm still sporting, despite my sister-in-law insisting that fashion trend ended a decade ago. Sigh.}

At the ripe age of like 18+3 days in October of 2000, I went with friends on a dark Friday night to the streets of San Pedro, California to create a statement. We jumped in my friend Josh's burgundy Acura Legend in Redondo Beach and hit the 405 to the 110 freeway and found ourselves at So Cal Tattoo and Body Piercing. Part of this whole decision was out of rebellion, being 18 and wanting to exert my rights as an official adult {My parents came around & I actually took my mom to get her nose pierced in 2006}. Part of my decision was based on my friend group being punk rockers and all having piercings of their own. But most of the decision was because I thought they were cute and California is flooded with regular beach girls (also me) with tan skin and nose piercings. {I regret the tan skin far more than the nose piercing--and frankly, I still don't regret it. That's reserved for ex-boyfriends, mostly.} Or tattoos. But I wasn't about to ink my skin because I still maintained my levelheadedness in knowing that I just might regret said decision later and taking out a nose ring would be a whole lot easier to manage than regretting a tattoo. That, and tattoos are just not my thing. They never appealed to me personally. So a nose piercing it was.

At one time, I loved it. While I don't dislike it still, I don't know if I care either way. When I first hopped on the bandwagon of having a cork shoved up my nose and a needle pushed through at lightning speed, I was a much different person. Having recently been back to So Cal, it's still definitely popular among the early 20-somethings.

That was twelve years ago, and part of me thinks it's time to move on.

I'm 30. I've had two children and been dealt a world of grief. The girl who went into that piercing shop 12 years ago was young, carefree, and didn't have much concern for anything. I was attending the local university and staying out late and being a regular ol' teenager/young adult.

Nothing could break me. I was invincible.

Six years ago. October 2006. Five months of dating my future husband and he took me skydiving in San Diego for my birthday. My parents asked him on the drive down what would happen if I didn't survive. I believe his response was, "Well then the drive home would be pretty awkward." Note: it was a blast, but there is no way I'd ever skydive again.

I guess it's me growing up, but somewhat wanting to let go of who I used to be, because what she was is no longer what is living within my body.

I've been taking it out for years-- when I interviewed for my first teaching job and every single day I taught. There were a few days I forgot, but I managed to pull the plug quickly enough before any of my fifth graders saw. I took it out for our wedding day and still take it out for every business dinner or gathering we attend. Except in Germany-- their culture is quite accepting of piercings and tattoos. While I don't find it personally offensive, we do live in the Midwest and this sort of thing isn't as accepted. California's culture is much different.

I remember first meeting my future in-laws and wondering if they would be accepting of me because I had a nose piercing-- like it was something I couldn't change. It was a bit silly, but they also live in a culture much different than the hippie, California lifestyle I'm used to. I was aware of the stereotypes and judgement placed on those who acted with such rebellion to mutilate their bodies. Surely I didn't think it was such a big deal, and it honestly wasn't, but I knew that others may view my decision with less-than-stellar appeal.

Recently, I took it out because I was blowing my nose about 3,004 times/day and didn't want to deal with having to adjust it each time. Since I've been asked this the last 12 years of my life, I might as well explain that blowing your nose is not a big deal... but the current one I have been using needs to be pushed back in each time and it's just. plain. annoying. So out it went. The cold is subsiding now and I haven't put it back in... yet. And might never.

It's kind of like throwing away that dress you bought and wore a thousand times and love so much... but that you know should be sent packing. It saw some great days of your life and some amazing memories were made while wearing it. And some sad ones, too. And yes, I was wearing my nose ring on the day each of my sons were born.

Just take it out and be done with it, already? Is that what you're thinking? It's a lot easier said than done! Anyone else experience a similar silly, yet monumental decision/change?