Piercing

Wee Sis holding me together - I couldn't stop laughing

The hardest part of dressing for work is figuring out what earrings to wear, then allowing for time to separate the winners from their fellows. When I was a kid, I had no inclination whatsoever to get my ears pierced; neither my mother nor my older sister had theirs done ... but my wee sister was different.

She had hers done at sixteen. I think it gave her something of her own, something that wasn’t emulating either of her older sisters. Of Dad’s three girls, she played more with makeup and was constantly rearranging her room—if anyone in the clan could have been an artist or an interior designer, it’s my little sister. She has the eye for it. She’s also responsible for my daily bling dilemma. She’s the reason why I got my ears pierced.

She won’t remember it this way, but here’s my story and I’m sticking to it:

I was nineteen and had a summer job with the CNIB, so it must have been 1981. One day wee sis met me at noon and we went somewhere for eats. I don’t remember where or what, but it was fast enough that we were left with a half hour before I had to get back to the office. She looked at me and asked, “What do we want to do until then?”

“Let’s get my ears pierced,” I replied.

I was joking, but when she lit up and said, “Okay!” I was—gak!—committed. We have always loved each other, but we could be brutal when we were younger, and if I chickened out, I’d never hear the end of it. Actually, that may yet be the case in some circumstances. Anyway, we got into the car (she was already driving; I had yet to get my license) and headed to the shop where her ears had been pierced a year or so earlier.

The place was empty. No customers and, better yet, no staff. To impress wee sis with my pseudo-sincerity, I made a point of perusing the merchandise as if contemplating my first purchase. In truth, I was counting the seconds in hope of escaping with my lobes intact. I almost made it, too. I was about to suggest that time was running short when the clerk appeared like a phantom menace and asked if we needed help.

I opened my mouth to say, “No, thanks.”

The words never left my lips. Wee sister took me by the shoulders, turned me to face the salesperson, and said, “My sister wants to get her ears pierced.” She gave me a little shove for emphasis and I was officially doomed.

I vaguely remember hyperventilating in front of a mirror while the clerk drew dots on my earlobes and my sister watched from a strategic spot near the door, no doubt in case I decided to make a run for it. Make a run for it? I could barely breathe, let alone make my limbs work. I closed my eyes as the loaded stapler hovered near my right ear. A sharp pop!, and warming blood rushed to the offended lobe. A few seconds later, the entire deed was done. As we walked back to the car, my little sister put her arm around my shoulders and declared, “I’m so proud of you!”

So tomorrow morning, when I’m pawing through my tangled box of studs and snarled hoops, I will remind myself of those precious words and how good it made me feel to hear them.

Impressing your older sister can be tricky enough. Impressing your younger sister? Now that’s a coup!

Love you, wee ’un.