Olivia showed up Friday with a new place to clip keys, thread her iPod earbuds wire, or snag herself on nails, in the form of a left eyebrow ring. Rachel says these grow out in time as the brow seems to inexorably push outward regardless of your attempt to convince it it’s an earlobe. I don’t mind it, but as I’ve never known a piercing to not have a red, swelly, ouchie phase, I hope hers will pass with minimal trauma.
As for me, I have no further use for holes which aren’t standard equipment, and I am very grateful that I’ve spent the last...count, count, count...34 years wearing lightweight enough earrings that I still have holes, not slits, and small, relatively non-pendulous earlobes.
It’s funny how, as a kid, you notice certain features of certain adults which you vehemently decide--right then and there--that you do not aspire to. Stretchy, slitty earlobes were a very strong one of those for me. I also wanted never to have “set” hair. That’s the thing where you go to the beauty parlor and get it all curled up into a neat little helmet which you, apparently, may not wash and must sheath in a cloth shower-cap type thingy when you sleep. On your back only. I very, very, most strenuously knew that I would never wear lipstick that would come off, leaving a deep red smudge on the teacup or on a hapless child’s face. And although I think I did it once upon a time when I was young and unformed, I will never again (ever) wear a Lanz of Salzburg flannel nightgown.
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