Well, the cat is out of the bag. I hope it is a small cat, like a kitten. A very quiet kitten.
Megan noticed my belly ring this morning. She wasn’t too disgusted, but she was very surprised. She asked me if I did it with my sister Bev, as if Bev would have been the one to talk me into it. I said no, I told Bev I wanted to do it, but Bev had gone to Omaha to be with her boyfriend on the day we had set aside to go. So, I went by myself, but that was just as well.
I went to a city about an hour from here, where there wasn’t a chance that I’d meet anyone I knew. It was a really cute little white house, in an older, updated downtown area, surrounded by little shops and restaurants. So…not a grungy place, a place I felt comfortable enough, even though I was more nervous than I have ever been in my life, even more than speaking in front of a group. I wanted it done, badly, and it kept me going.
There were three people inside, a mountain of a man sitting at a small desk with a HUGE take-out glass of soda. He was the tattoo artist. I looked at some photos of his tattoos in a big notebook, and they were amazingly beautiful. But no tattoos for me today, probably not ever. He was very nice, very friendly, and never moved out of the chair the whole time I was there.
There was a teenage boy sitting in a chair near the window. He sat there reading a magazine the whole time I was there and never said a word. I suppose he was a relative, perhaps, or a friend.
The other man in the shop was middle-aged and had a long, black ponytail. He was the stereotypical biker dude, and his job apparently was piercings, because he took over from there. He could probably tell I was nearly catatonic, so he took great pains to be sure that no, I was not drunk and knew what I wanted, signing forms, copying driver’s licenses, etc., and explaining to me exactly what was going on. He was great, and if the time ever comes for me to get another piercing, I’ll definitely want him to do it.
It was kind of like going to a doctor, when the time came for me to lift my shirt and let him mark on me with a marker. That’s all I had to do, though…no getting undressed in a hospital gown or anything that might have made me run screaming for the door. I laid down on a padded table, one that raised and lowered like a dentist’s chair, and pretty much zoned out. I answered his questions, and listened to him tell me how to care for it, how long it would take to heal, stuff like that. When he was done, he helped me get up and asked me if I wanted to see it. I really didn’t, but yet I did, and he had a full length mirror, so I looked. It was a little bloody still, and kind of red, but it was so amazing and just what I wanted.
We all chatted for a few more minutes, and then I escaped. It was great; I would do it again in a heartbeat. I read that sometimes the belly ring works its way to the surface, and has to be re-pierced. I thought I would never do that, but now I am sure I would, if for some reason it migrated and closed up.
There’s more to the story, but it’s probably not very interesting. I bought some jewelry online, and bought jewelry findings from China to make some dangles of my own, which I am loving. It used to be my secret, and that made it even more fun, but now Megan knows, too, and I only hope she will keep my secret. She said she would…and we have a pretty good relationship, so I think she will. It’s a crazy interesting secret for a 16-year-old girl to have to keep quiet about, though…we’ll see, I guess.
Predictably, the only thing she was really interested in was me letting her get more piercings too…in her ears, though. No “ewww’s,” which I was expecting. Would have preferred, actually. That would for sure have kept her quiet.
Well, sharing secrets is one way to be close to somebody. If this improves my relationship with my daughter, then I’m glad it happened. And now maybe I have a co-conspirator to have fun with…let’s go shopping, hmm?