Why I paid someone to stick a needle through my nostril . . .

Do I really need to explain this?

I’m beginning to fear that writing this blog post will prove to be counterproductive. Explaining why I did it might work against my purpose in doing it to begin with. But I’m always keeping an eye out for post topics. I might as well have some fun writing about my life.

After all, over analysis nearly kept me from piercing my nose in the first place.

I’ve toyed with the idea of getting my nostril pierced for about ten years. Ten years ago, though, I was working at a job that required piercings (aside from earrings) to be removed in the workplace. I knew that if I got my nose pierced, I wouldn’t be able to remove it at all for a good four months or so. A new piercing was out. Or at least, that’s the reason I told myself I wasn’t getting one. In reality, I was probably scared of what people would think. Afraid they might realize I wasn’t the straight-laced conservative girl I’d normally posed as. I imagined that people looked at me and thought I was a certain way. It wasn’t the way I really was. And it wasn’t the way I really wanted to be.

I am, and always have been, more liberal than my conservative friends . . . and more conservative than my liberal friends. I’ve always been creative and different and secretly longed to look on the outside the way I feel inside. But I also have an extremely practical side, so I shied away from accessories and trendy dressing, thinking I really needed to buy classic styles so I could wear the same clothes for years. But I wanted to be funky. I love a variety of styles, but the hippie, earthy side of me is finally beginning to win out. In college, I was the girl who wore socks with Birkenstocks. And hats. I loved hats.

I’m working backwards. I know. Let’s speed up to 2013, though, when I packed on the pounds at an alarming rate b/c Evangeline required me to eat potatoes nonstop and lie on the couch reading novels for her first 16 weeks in utero.

Motherhood requires loss of self to a certain extent. Some of that I love. I LOVE wearing my baby, especially in a Moby wrap. The baby’s so snuggly and close. It feels organic. It’s also a great look and it hides my post-partum bulge to a certain extent. We’re past the Moby stage now, though, and the straps of my Beco carrier accentuate the love handles. I still have 20 to 25 pounds to lose. All winter I wore one pair of jeans. I don’t even like those jeans at all, but they were the only ones I could find that fit. I splurged on a few scarves and one flattering outfit. But I felt a little frumpy. And fat. And not really myself. I longed for something to give me an edge. To show on the outside that I’m artsy and so not-straight-laced. I thought about dreadlocks, but that’s just too much trouble right now. And honestly, it’s kind of too much trouble to come up with funky outfits every day. Sometimes I just want to wear yoga pants.

I knew, deep down, that I needed to stop caring what people think of me and just be the person God made me to be.

Way back when I was originally thinking about getting my nostril pierced (ten years ago) a mentor tried to tell me that people don’t really think about me as much as I think they do. I wanted to believe that. But then somebody told me I was known (to Department of Transportation workers) as the girl who runs in the purple hat.

Oh. So they talk about me and what I wear when I’m running.

But who cares? After four months of thinking about it and three (yes, three!) failed trips to the piercing place, I finally did it. I just got up from writing on April Fools Day and went and got my nose pierced. I overcame my insecurities. I stopped caring what people think about me. Let them say I wasn’t a good Christian. Let them say I was trying to look younger than I am. Let them say it’s not really different because everybody and their mother has their nose pierced these days. God knows the truth. And so do I.

I just wanted a nose stud. And I like it. And once it heals, I’m going to wear a hoop, too. And don’t be surprised if I put some crazy color in my hair one day. Or do be surprised. It doesn’t matter.

Life is too short to worry about what everybody thinks. This is just one way to help me remember that it doesn’t matter what they think. That it’s okay to be different. That God loves me and made me different. I want to embrace that. Not in a selfish way, but in a brave way. Embracing everything He made me to do. Be it loving on my kids or expressing myself through writing.

I will look in the mirror, see my piercing and know that I need to step out and be fully alive, in every possible way.

Carpe Diem Coram Deo.