January is basically over, and I have holes in my ears. The year began with a bang (he. He.), result being that a lot of things have changed in my life. For one, my hairdo. For two, at the ripe old age of 23, I pierced my ears. For the first time.
You see, the thing is, I don’t do permanent things if they’re not relationships. Earrings, tattoos, babies…you get the drift. But I decided to take the plunge, a lot because people keep giving me earrings and I felt it was a sign. (the first pair of earrings that were ever given to me were by one of my best friends in class 7. Best, and apparently she didn’t notice I didn’t have holes. Doh.) Also…they’re pretty.
BUT THEY’RE SO FREAKING IRRITATING. Honestly I don’t know if I would have still done it if I knew then what I knew now…which is that THEY’RE SO FREAKING IRRITATING. I pick up my phone and they plenk on my screen. I keep thinking something is crawling on my ear. Cleaning it stings. I want a ticket to the Bahamas. (I figured if I’m whining, might as well throw them all in there. Telling the universe and all) How do babies DO THIS! And yes. I am saying I have less of a threshold for pain THAN A BABY. Ain’t no shame in my anasthesia-wanting game.