Nobody nose...

I took my nosering out. I took a good hard look at myself in the mirror, and yoinked that piece of metal right out of my face. Sounds more painful than it was -- there was no pain involved.

I have had my nose pierced 3 times in a period of 10 years. The first time, I was in high school. I wanted a hoop so badly, and visualized a way more awesome me with a nosering. To my father's chagrin, I went out and got myself a nice big hoop, and I wore that sucker proudly until I got a job at Supercuts. Supercuts, being the upscale hair parlor it is, made me take out my pretty ring, and I needed a job. My memory is a little fuzzy, but I do recall the next nosering memory happening in Philly Connection (my college job). The big boss did not approve of my ring, but her son (little boss) did not really care. So, I left my nosering in. I don't remember where or when I got that hoop; it's a gap in memory that I attribute to long nights of bad beer and bongs.

I got my nosering a third time when I first moved to CA. It started off as my ole faithful hoop. It morphed into a stud when I got into management. Studs ok, hoops not, got it. I have never been a fan of the stud. It seems like a wussy way to wear the metal, and my god is it ever so trendy in this neck of my CA woods. Studs were for people who did yoga every night, for people who were on raw foods diets and anal cleansed for fun, for people who attributed everything to a lunar or sun cycle, pretty much, the stud life was not for me. I kept that baby in for years because well dammit, I like metal in my face.

But the other night, while I was giving myself the onceover (looking for aforementioned lost fat), I did not like how it looked anymore. In the last leg of my 20's, my thoughts about family, career, looks, and life has completely morphed. I stare longingly at men in mohawks, but would I date that again -- probably not. As I thought about a future me in my future place, I felt my hand reaching for the metal. My nose looked foreign, and it felt cold and naked. I touched where the cartiidge where metal has taken a home for so many years, and it felt weird. My parents told me that once day I wouldn't want the piercings and tats. I did not believe them. I told them I'll be buried in my metal. I'll never tell them they were right, but the tattoos etched into my skin are happily there, so maybe they were only half right.