I recently got my ears pierced. Or perhaps not so recently– it’s been over a month now. After 18 years of plain, unembellished ears, I finally gave in to the pressure:
So, while in New York City with my sister and host sister, I got my ears pierced. My sister had made up her mind to get a second piercing and, I, the innocent bystander, was dragged along.
Somehow we found a Claire’s in the middle of the city. We entered, where the sassy manager proceeded to stick my ears with a metal pin.
They told me it wouldn’t hurt. Lies! All lies! Okay, so I’m just a huge pansy who has no tolerance for any sort of physical pain. I even close my eyes when I get my shots. Yeahhh. I’m a legal adult.
But that was over a month ago. Since then I’ve been cleaning my ears diligently, since I have a pathological fear of them getting infected. Swollen ears and freely flowing pus is not on my to-do list. I was especially afraid since I had purchased the stainless steel earrings instead of gold or silver ones (gold and silver are less likely to provoke allergic reactions) because I wasn’t willing to drop 60 bucks to get my earlobes poked through.
Well, I had a right to be paranoid. Because a couple days ago, my fears came true.
I called over my mom, who proceeded to freak out.