Most of the women in my family have their noses pierced. My oldest sister, Kathleen, got hers as a "surprise" for her then-fiancee-now-husband, meaning that he had asked her time and again not to get it, but she decided to anyway. My middle sister, Kelly, got hers in one of her multitudinous fits of rebellion that would later result in a small, small career as a tattoo and piercing model for Club Tattoo--a poster of her hung on the wall when I got pierced. My aunt has her nose pierced; my extremely close family friends Keera and Amber have their noses pierced; and the only reason my very, very close friend Karilyn doesn't have one is that her nose is the most adorable cartoon button of a thing, and even putting the smallest jewel on it would wind up looking silly. My mom doesn't have a nose piercing, but she does really, really want a tattoo. Tattoos are never anything I'd be interested in, but like my sisters, I resigned myself to getting pierced in a fit of rebellion, as the only thing I could think of to feel better.
I'm not sure who I was rebelling against, really, and I am sure that it was one weak rebellion. I'm sure a bit of it was rebelling against my parents, but most of it was probably rebelling against my ex-boyfriend. The event that spurred me on in getting my nose pierced was my first "real" break-up from my first "real" relationship, during my Freshman year of undergrad. The guy dumped me hard, and in a pretty awful way, blaming all of the failures of the relationship on me. It was winter break, and I was staying in my parents' house when it happened. My roommate, Rachel, who had quickly become one of my absolute best friends when we started living together, drove to my parents' house as soon as I told her what had happened. She brought me mini cupcakes, and a box set of a silly, girly TV show. (Rachel, who is LDS, also does not have her nose pierced, for very understandable and respectable reasons.) I hugged her and we sat down at the kitchen table, me in a bathrobe and pajamas with a fresh coffee stain down the middle, and my mom came to sit with us. She thanked Rach for being so ridiculously sweet, and then I looked to my mom, and I said, "Mom, I'm just going to let you know, I'm straight up getting my nose pierced tomorrow."
My mom is pretty lax about things like tattoos and piercings, especially after Kelly. My dad, however, is usually really strict about anything to do with altering our bodies. I expected my mom to back him immediately and tell me no, like she usually did when I pitched rebellious ideas to her. Instead, my mom sighed, looked at me, and said, "Sometimes, a little rebellion is good in times like these."
I've had my nose piercing for almost two years now. It's kind of like a part of my face, at this point, like my glasses. Getting it sort of felt like a rite of passage in my family, a kind of coming of age ritual--well, not physically. Physically, it felt like get pinched really, really hard on a spot I did not know was so susceptible to pain. But emotionally, yeah, a rite of passage. It marked me as a Williams woman, not a Williams girl. It marked me as really being allied with the older generation of my family, especially since my sisters are seven and nine years older than me. I felt like maybe I wouldn't have to take the middle seat in the car anymore, or the chair at the kids' table during Thanksgiving.
I keep thinking about when I start teaching, and how I'll probably have to take out my nose stud. I'll be frank: I don't want to. I don't want to at all. I love my nose stud. I love it, for the tangible thing that it is and for the symbolic idea that it is. But would I take it out for a job?
Yes. In a heartbeat, yes.
One of the reasons I would never get a tattoo is because of its permanence. I would hate to have to cover it up every day during teaching, or getting it in a spot nobody would see. With my nose piercing, I can take it out, and it can go away, just like that. If I want it back, well, hey, I can get it back for about $30. I think teachers should have to follow dress codes of their schools very strictly--more stictly, even, than the students. Losing my nose piercing doesn't mean having to take back the middle car seat; it means changing my face in a way that will be strange and foreign, now, but sometimes you have to give silly things up for the sake of the long-run goals in your life.
And besides, piercings scar a little. If I miss my stud, I can always look in the mirror at that little white freckle-like scar, and remember that I am a Williams woman.
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