In Closer to Me: The Tattoo Parlor Incident, Amy made a bold choice to get an eyebrow piercing to bring a little piece of her inner self to the surface. Now…she’s got to show her Midwestern, lawyer husband that she’s got a new accessory…and she’s wee bit nervous about the reveal.
So, here I am, a thirty-year-old mother with a new hole in her head and all I can think about is: What in the world am I going to say to my husband?! I’m a Midwestern attorney’s wife sporting a new brow piercing and trying to figure out how that will fit in with country club events.
Still, I don’t want to be boxed in. I’m afraid of tight spaces, anyway. I don’t like to be stereotyped just because I’m a professional’s wife; just as I’m sure that large dude with ear plugs, covered head to toe in ink, wants to be viewed as more than the artwork on his body.
That’s why he did it after all, right? For him, as it is for me, it is artistic self-expression, and many cultures find it beautiful as we do. It may not be everyone’s cup-o-tea, but the point is to find what floats your boat.
I proceeded to load the littles in my minivan, one by one, while I thought about the angle in which I was going to present my new look to my hubby. Needless to say, I felt like a teenager trying to explain to her parents why she did something she knew they probably weren’t going to like.
I kept bouncing back and forth between that nervous feeling and the thought that I’m a grown woman and it was my choice to do something nice for myself, even if others wouldn’t find it to their liking. I’d done nothing wrong. It was a small piece of jewelry that I could remove and replace. I could choose who would get to see it and who wouldn’t.
Slowly driving up to the house, I noticed my husband’s black Mustang staring me down in the drive. OH NO! He was home, and I still had no clue how I was going to break it to him. The thirty minute drive didn’t seem to be enough time to figure out how to even begin to approach him.
As you can tell, my timing has never been the best.
So, I quickly brushed my bangs down over my face and rushed inside with the children. I didn’t even stop to look up at him when he walked over to me. Phew! He didn’t notice yet.
He sat back down to finish some documentary he was watching as I scrambled to get the children fed and ready for bed. I had to find the right time to talk to him. After everything settled down I began to open my mouth and–oh snap–my sister came home from work. I decided to wait a little longer, because if this was upsetting for him, the last thing I wanted to do was debate it in front of her.
Thankfully, a while later he finally went to have a cigar outside. It was time to face what I’d been anticipating and dreading. “It’s just like a Band Aid, Amy, you need to rip it off,” I thought. With one deep breath, I approached him and blurted out, “I needed to do something for me today. I just feel sooo overwhelmed all the time, I wanted to do something that was only for me.”
“What are you trying to say? Just spit it out,” he said, frustrated. I quickly lifted my bangs and gave him a peek at my new jewelry. He looked at me, shocked, and then was silent.
I rendered him speechless, which, in my husband’s case, is a nearly impossible feat.
He looked at me puzzled, in an almost a stupor-like state.
“Well, I just wanted to let you know what I did today,” I blurted out, while making a break for it, back into the house.
It was done. No muss, no fuss. I was so relieved.
Perhaps it was a cop-out to run in so quickly without giving him a moment to let it really sink in and react. For me, however, it made me feel a hair naughty and young again, like I had walked on the edge, if only for a moment. I
For that moment, I felt like a 20-year-old girl again, and the anticipation and thrill felt amazing. It was insane how something so small and silly could make me feel closer to that young woman I once was.
It wasn’t until the next day that my sister, who is pretty courageous, asked Joe the difficult question, “What do you think about Amy’s new piercing?”
His response was simply, “It’s not my thing, but it’s her body, and I can’t tell her what to do.”
So, there you have it, folks. At the end of the day, he may not have liked it, but I did, and my worries were for nothing.