Pierce

Granny had pierced ears as a girl, but one was torn out by another girl. She only wore clip ons by the time I came along. So goes the story. Having seen how girls fought in lower grades, this did not surprize me at all. So I was glad to wait until I was a little older to get my ears pierced. Fourteen? Sixteen? Funny how I honestly can't remember now, but I never doubted I wanted them done, to my mother's confused acceptance - her ears were untouched. She took me to Sears to have the "nurse" there do mine.

Older, round woman in a polyester uniform, cold but kind enough manner, she swabbed a lobe with alcohol (I assume) and used a hand held clamp-like machine to place the stud. I held myself stoic, I'd made the choice, I stood by it by being brave. Not worse than a shot from the doctor when I was tiny. I listened hard to the instructions. Of course a couple of days after one stud came out during cleaning, and after mom tried to get it back in unsuccessfully, I just shoved it back through, making a new hole in back. I could be tough, even then, when I made my mind up. While still painful, my much older brother flicked one ear, and I went down. Good to see him react with real shock, abashed to his toes, the jerk.

It was the era, and I was at an age, to wear the biggest hoops, the flashiest bobbles, feathers, bells, shiny and sparkly - all cheap earrings. I wore odd ones when I began to lose one of each pair - regularly. An affectation that lasted many years. My one indulgence while living on my own on so little money, a half dozen earrings for a dollar or two. My one area of trivial decoration. Aside from my mother's baby ring* (that she'd resized for herself as a young woman) I wore no other jewelry.

When I knew I would leave the ex, I bought myself a very pretty set of earrings, more expensive than any I'd ever gotten before, (maybe a whole $10.) I'd begun to live for myself again. D has given me many beautiful pairs over the years, none in a dozen set. Until I decided he'd given me the best ever, and I never really wanted more. Lost one, sadly, and would not get more until I found the ones I'd wear all the time for years. Not feeling like having a passel of different ones, these days.

I like how they feel, a fidget I always have close, a pretty I don't have to take off when I roll up my sleeves. A personal, durable talisman.

*Given to my niece, her granddaughter, long ago.