When I was a teenager, I begged my mother to let me get my ears pierced. She denied my pleadings and said “nice girls” don’t have pierced ears or chew gum in public. Wow, have things changed. But it was the 1950’s and I listened and obeyed her admonitions, and stayed with my ears untouched.
I spent my first year of college in New York City haunting the jewelry stores in Greenwich Village looking for earrings that looked pierced but were, in fact, matronly clip-ons. Needless to say, my grades were not stellar that year. And I am not certain why I acted as if I still needed her permission when I married after my sophomore year. But it was the mid-1960’s and rebellion was just beginning to emerge.
The year I turned thirty, I decided the time was right for ear-piercing. I arranged to go to the doctor(no mall piercings for me,) with a friend and when the date arrived she backed out. I went anyway and when he shot through my ears with the piercing gun, I almost threw up. Another good reason for gun control.
Well, he inserted the non-allergic gold earrings and I was finally a grownup in my own eyes. I looked at women everywhere, or more accurately I looked at their ears. I bought more studs, dangles, a few gem circles and loved inserting the new purchases each day.
But a funny(not funny at the time,) thing happened and I was depressed for a long time recently. During that period, I wore no jewelry, barely brushed my hair, dressed poorly and didn’t care. If you have ever been depressed, you get my point.
Thanks to G-d and good medical care, I have emerged from my despair and feel much better. The holes in my ears closed up from lack of use, and I decided not to have them repierced(not a real word.) I don’t want to feel like a Christmas tree with ornaments hanging off my body. No offense to anyone who wears, loves and looks great in earrings. I just like the natural look right now.