Last week I was at a Claire's boutique, looking to buy a few ridiculously unnecessary but festive accessories for St. Patrick's day. Two girls came in to get additional piercings. The clerk was all of 21, but she still asked them if they were 18. She did not request ID. I get it- I doubt if Claire's pays her enough that she should go all Cops on them.
A discussion ensued about their desired piercings. They were there for cartilage pokes. As they sidled up to the mirror to demonstrate the geography they wished to perforate, I felt my stomach start to flutter and I became dizzy. These were really cute girls, and they already had a big jeweled presence on their lobes and ear rims. I started fixating about how they could sleep with the arrow jutting from their ear tops. Lobes might meld together, but a hole in the cuff of the ear -it seems more permanent. I had a mad hot flash, and left the store to ventilate in the mall. The other customer interrupted the prospective surgery, and calmly paid for eight sets of fairy wings for her daughter's birthday party. Will that fairy princess someday add a stud to her cartilage? My St. Patrick's festivities were unembellished by green boas. I needed to get out, get air and get home.
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