I can’t say how it began, the wanting of a nosering. I was around 17, and can’t remember any special trigger or role model. Can hardly remember even seeing or knowing anyone who had one, or, at least, anyone who had one that I liked. A description in a book, perhaps? It came upon me suddenly, I think, as these things* often do, and I waited patiently to see if it would fade. Two years of tireless fantasizing about a tiny gold hoop later, I got my nose pierced, with nary a moment of doubt or disappointment. It was a strange experience because the piercer has to get very near your face to do the job, and the guy who pierced my nose had eyes uncannily like mine, so we were both sort of astonished and distracted the whole time.
*Ex. Right now I want a pair of antique scissors, as a turn of the century florist might have used. Who can say why?
My being 19 is very poorly documented. I can’t find this one picture. I am maybe 23 here? I’d just been snowboarding. You get the idea. I’ve had it for a while.
So at 19 a tiny hoop melded seamlessly into the architecture of my face (it was instantaneous), and I loved it, and I love it. I hardly see it now (or, am hardly conscious of seeing it), and I think I am not alone. I’ve had friends notice suddenly, many interactions in, wondering if I’d only just gotten it. They mention it and I feel something like surprise, too, having more or less forgotten about it. At which point I say, oh yes, I’ve had this for ages, and feel the pleasure of remembering having once made an excellent decision.
It fits, seems to be the indication. It’s me.
From this look, a favorite.
I like so much finding these things that are me. This Meghan life paraphernalia. My long-lost style brethren.
I’ve been wanting a tattoo for a while…