Coming of Age with a Bridge
Since middle school I have wanted a bridge. I think I first saw it on my friend's poster plastered wall. I never told anyone that I wanted it, but secretly I longed for it. I drew (crappy) self portraits of my older self with that piercing and hid them from the world, but day by day my wish took seed and grew.
As time went by, my life changed in ways I could have never imagined. I was growing up and taking responsibility for my life. I was able to confront my mother and tell her that I no longer wished to live with her. That I wanted to move in with the man she hated above all others, my father. After a six month falling out with her, I was boarding a plane with my brothers headed away from mild Dallas and on to rainy Frankfurt, Germany for Christmas visitation. That Christmas, instead of boarding the return flight to Dallas with my brothers I stayed behind to live out the remainder of my childhood in my childhood home. But it was different. The house itself was double the size, built for double the people. I now had a loving stepmother along with two (half)sisters. Here, I finally had the freedom I had always wanted. The grass was definitely greener. Well, sort of. I had lived in Germany as a child, but it was hard after really growing up in the U.S. to adjust. Not just because my German sucked and I could barely utter an intelligible sentence without committing a major grammatical faux pas, but I had to learn how their school system worked and how to function in their culture. Being an American in a small village in Germany was interesting, not only because my childhood friends were now Anti-americanists (better said anti-Bushists) but also coming to the painful realization that we had all grown and changed and were no longer best friends and not even good friends. Luckily, adaptation has always been part of my life. Now I was the "crazy American chick" whereas in Texas I was the "crazy German chick" (you can also substitute Nazi for German). And I was about to get even more "crazy". I graduated from tenth grade and moved on to a new bigger and better school. I found new friends and smarter friends. In the whirlwind of change I also joined a band, whilst all the while my 18th birthday was slowly creeping nearer. My wish was finally going to come to fruition. It was to be my symbolic coming of age ceremony. After all the familial turmoil and major life changes during the last 2 and ½ years of my childhood, it was going to be the squeezing of that horrible Mt. Vesuvius of a zit on your forehead the day before a big date. Yes, sweet satisfaction and vindication. (O.K. sorry about the gross metaphor, but don't tell me squeezing big huge zits and watching them explode isn't satisfying) I wanted to get it done on my birthday, but unfortunately my birthday was on a Sunday, and in Germany everything except service stations and restaurants has to be closed on Sundays and holidays by law. So I went in to my favorite piercing place (I stretched my lobes with the aid of Julius) with a girlfriend and talked to Julius about it. After the very undramatic beauracracy, I went into the little white room with the red leather evil dentist's chair. My friend had to stay outside during the procedure. Mainly because of space considerations. So Julius marked me up and prepped everything and asked me if I was ready. I so was. He put the clamp on and in went the needle. It felt sooooo cool. It felt as if cool water was flowing through my skin. All of sudden it was over and I was staring at two beautiful balls suspended between my eyes. I was on a high. My life was finally mine. At least until I got on the train home. I hadn't told my parents that I had planned this for my birthday, so I was very nervous as to what they would say and how they would react. My step mother didn't like it, but told me it was my life and my body. A week after I had it done my father noticed it. His first words to me after a look of disbelief on his face were "Take it out!!!" and then "YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT WARMED OVER!!!". This was the man who told me to stand up for myself and take control of my body when my mom had all my hair chopped off. And now when I was taking control, he didn't like it. But I wasn't insulted. I actually had to bite my lip not to burst out laughing. So he lectured me and repeatedly told me I looked like shit. But I had resolve. I hadn't gone through hell to change my life just to let few nasty words make me crumble. Sooner or later he would get used to it.
After about a month, the lectures got fewer and fewer. Occasionally, during the past year he has tried to bribe me to take it out. But I am not to be bought. I am in control of my life.
To be honest, my peircing was very polarizing among my friends and family. Either they loved it (the minority) or they hated it. I was very encouraged and flattered, though, when I saw a friend at a birthday party that I hadn't seen in a while and he said to me "Ich habe noch nie ein Peircing gesehen, dass so zu einer Person passt" translated it means "I have never seen a peircing that suited a person so well".
That's exactly how I had always felt.
My 19th birthday is rolling around in a few weeks and I think I'm gonna pay Julius a visit.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 28 Feb. 2006
in Eyebrow Piercing