Saturday, March 10, 2012

Hipster? No, Dipster.

So, I wanted to be all, "I'm in control here, body!" so I went and got a nose piercing, despite Sky King's doubts that it would  be cool.  Specifically, he said, "you're too old.  What, you trying to act 20?".  After I flipped him the bird and slipped trying to hit him (in which he laughed hysterically, saying, "Karma!!" over and over) I shelved the idea until the right time.

A few months go by.  Every time we are out and about, he says, "where to?" and I say, "the nearest piercing place" and he drives to sushi, which makes me forget about the piercing, until the sake wears off.

Then on Valentine's Day, we had to leave the house quickly because the pest guy I finally relented to and the blinds guy and the lawn guy were all there, making relaxation after a big move futile.  So we escaped, and didn't know where to go. 

Sky King said, "Well?".
I said, "I want a nose ring."
"Seriously??? I mean, you really really want one, you're not saying this to annoy me?"
"Yes, I really really want one.  That's why for the past 10 months I keep telling you to take me to get one."
"Oh. Okay, for Valentine's Day, I will get you a nose ring."

Which of course, he owed me, historically

and then I had the look on my face any kid does when they have thrown an epic tantrum and the parent finally says, "FINE!  We will go to Barfer King for the new movie-tie-in plastic toys!! You happy????". I was happy.  Content, relaxed.  Getting my way.

Fast forward 3 weeks, and I'm rockin' it.  I've been accused of being a Hipster, which I took as a huge compliment, because usually I'm accused of much worse.  I have even been told by a certain doubting husband that it's "kinda hot".  Not that he needs any coaxing to play grab-ass as I walk up the stairs each night, but still.  It's nice to know he wants to play grab-ass, not feels obligated because I'm ahead of him on our very steep stairs.

Then, I got a runny nose.

Somewhere along the way, I gingerly wiped, being careful not to disturb the aqua post in my nose.

About an hour or so later, I noticed there was no post.  Anywhere. I even checked in the mirror, in case I accidentally lost feeling in my fingertips but didn't know it yet.  Gone.

I scoured the house, pulled all the tissues out thinking it might have fallen in there.  Nothing. But I didn't want to go through the piercing again, and so I went into the jewelry box, looking for a piercing stud.

I found one, and tried to put it in. Unfortunately, it had begun healing, so I had to be a little more persistent than I would have liked. I finally got it in, removed it, bent the end so it would stay until the next day, and re-inserted it.

The post wasn't long enough, and I was going to bed so I had to secure it.  A tiny band-aid did the trick.  It also tickled Sky King's funny bone.  So much so, he was compelled to upload this photo to Facebook (that thing he NEVER uses. Unless he wants to mock me.)

and because the world must feel indebted to Sky King for something, I had to go all night and all the next morning like this. Because tattoo people don't get up til noon.

Finally, I found a piercing supply place, where everyone accepted me as the freak I am.  They all understood.  And I bought a replacement-lime green.

3 hours later, I found the original ring, sitting on the table next to the couch. Now I had two, plus a make-shift 3rd.


At least now, I'm a prepared Hipster. 

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