Saturday, April 25, 2009

With a rebel yell

I get grand ideas all the time, usually that I pursue with ardent passion for about a week before I either get bored or find something I like better. Whenever I stay on one thing for longer than a few weeks, it's a pretty big deal. So a few months ago, when I decided I wanted to get my nose pierced, I did all the research, surveyed friends and family and found a "good" place to have it done. I even went so far as to buy eyelash glue and rhinestones to model what my new bling would look like.

I told everyone I knew that I was going to get this done, and for the most part was greeted with an eye roll. I asked the hubbs why people would respond that way.

Me: I just don't get it. I'm hip. I'm cool. I can pull that look off.

Hubbs: Um, you're not that cool.

Me: What do you mean, I'm not that cool?

Hubbs: People who are cool enough to get facial piercings don't announce to everyone that they are, in fact, hip and cool.

Me: Whatevs, I'm going to do it and I don't care.

Hubbs: Sure.

Fast forward a couple of days, and the hubbs and I are out running some errands. I'm fighting an internal battle over whether I'd rather go for pizza or burgers for dinner, when the hubbs makes a detour and we stop in front of a pretty popular tattoo parlor. Apparently, sick of my talk, my darling husband decided today would be the day I would walk the walk.

Never one to back down from a challenge, I summoned my nerve, held my breath and got stabbed through the face with a giant needle.

It freakin' looks awesome.

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