Leaving Your Baggage at the Door-Pierced Edition

Greetings to the chirping crickets!

Recently I wrote to the mass wall of wailing white noise about leaving box of blonde behind, but  prior to that I left something much deeper I had been clutching on to: my metal trinkets of lost and failed lovers.

Each crushing blow, setback, or speed bump that had effected me from the break-up, I went out and got a piercing to feel better about it. Yes they were all “visible piercings”, but that was the anti-beauty about it: I could see them now.

Sure we are preached not to depend on others, or that being single is the best thing since sliced bread…BUT my recent found love, I saw the world through her eyes on many things…

I saw San Francisco through her perspective. The band Journey would also take a different meaning, even though I have  a different perspective myself. Some of the simplest things of the Bay Area I saw through her beautiful brown eyes. But then I could see things differently without her, but by her…

I was brushing my teeth or combing my hair in front of the mirror and it struck me: I had a collection of hate, heartache, angst collected on my very face of femme beauty. I choked at the realization: I had been holding on to hate with a much tighter grip than I would have known.

I wasn’t my piercings, but my piercings had become ME: full of bitterness, resentment, antisocial behavior-I was quicker than my birth father to voice criticism too it seemed.


I kept one. The one piercing I got to celebrate making 40. It was my nose piercing.
I am proud to make 40.
I made it on my own, and its not an angsty thing for me.

Well, at least most days. ❤


(Ok chirping crickets, chew on that)


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