Waging battle against my mom and myself.
By Jessica Bopp
When I was in the fourth grade, a bunch of my friends started getting their ears pierced. They would all come to school the next day with tiny little gold or silver beads, diamonds, colorful gemstones, or pearls in their ears. I was REALLY jealous.
So I went home and asked my mom if I could get my ears pierced, too. I mean, I figured it was only fair, since all of my friends were doing it. I wanted to be cool, too. I wanted to match my earrings to all of my outfits and find another outlet for creative fashionable expression. I was so excited, I could hardly wait to get home - I was sure my mom would take me straight to the mall to get my ears pierced right then and there! Unfortunately, I was wrong. Way wrong. My mom didn't rush me to the mall, or even promise to take me that weekend. Instead, she promised to take me to get my ears pierced when I turned 13. Thirteen?!! That seemed like so far away. By then, all of my friends would have already had their ears pierced for three years! I thought my life was over, and that I was doomed to live forever with the most uncompromising, uncool mother ever invented. I would be the laughingstock of the school, the only one in the fourth grade without her ears pierced.
Nobody even noticed my ears weren't pierced. I don't know why I ever made such a big deal out of it.
As time went on, I started to forget about wanting to get my ears pierced. Eventually, it wasn't such a big deal any more. Ear piercing became old news at my school, and nobody really talked about it any more. And there were plenty of girls who didn't have their ears pierced. The best part was, my friends hardly even seemed to notice that my ears weren't pierced, so nobody bugged me about it. I don't know why I ever made such a big deal out of it in the first place. By the time I actually turned 13, I had pretty much forgotten all about it.
One day, after my 13th birthday, I decided that I wanted to get my ears pierced after all. So, my mom and my sister and I went to the mall, and found the nearest accessories store that also pierced ears. I picked out a set of starter earrings and sat in the chair so that the sales associate could get ready to pierce my ears. She took a purple marker and put dots on both of my ears, and then she got out the gun. And I panicked. Suddenly, I remembered that I have always had an intense fear of needles. Was I willing to go through the pain of voluntary contact with a needle just so I could wear earrings? Hmmm. Maybe not. I decided that I wasn't ready to get my ears pierced any more, and I walked right out of the store with the purple marks still on my ears.
I never did get my ears pierced. I'd like to say that I grew up and got over my fear of needles in favor of fashionable accessorizing, but I didn't. I did manage to conquer my fear of needles in another way, though: when I was nineteen, I got a tattoo. I guess it was more important to me than getting my ears pierced. Sometimes now, at 21 years old, I think about just stopping in to one of those accessory stores the next time I'm in the mall and biting the ear-piercing bullet. Maybe I will some day, maybe I won't. I guess it's just not that important to me any more.