Risk Taking Mistake Making
Since my ears react instantly and aggressively to even the highest‑grade metals, I stopped wearing earrings for years. But suddenly, I felt the need for earrings again. And in the way I do anything I feel compelled to do, I went all in—fast and hard. Fools rush in, right?
I ordered several pairs of surgical‑grade titanium studs. Once all my old piercings were filled and no longer itchy, red, or inflamed, I wanted more holes for more earrings. If two look nice, how great will seventeen be? If warm water is good for washing your face, then boiling water must be even better. This is genuinely my natural inclination: extreme, flawed, and sometimes disastrous.
The two earrings in my left ear look great. The two in my right ear… not so much. One hole is too high, the other too low, forming a weird horizontal line instead of a nice diagonal slope. Fine. One earring in the right ear, two in the left.
UNTIL… Favorite and Sweet Greg informed me that two earrings are “a little 80s.” So naturally, I spent hours googling local piercing places and prices. After reading too many reviews about crooked piercings, I knew I had to do it myself—or convince Favorite or Greg to do it for me. Both said absolutely not. Not because they were afraid of hurting me, but because they were afraid of doing it wrong. Not afraid of disappointing me, apparently, since they denied me their steady hands and good eyesight.
I was like, “Who cares? If you mess it up, we laugh and take it out.” They cared. They remained unswayable.
So, after watching videos and reading reviews of single‑use piercing guns, I ordered a set of self‑piercing supplies. Four earrings and four piercers for nine dollars. Schweeeng. I pierced my own third hole—easily and perfectly. I never do anything perfectly. Ever. I’m more uncomfortable not trying than I am with making mistakes. Honestly, it would’ve been hilarious if one of them pierced me, especially if it went sideways. I wanted it on video. But nope. I was on my own.
Then my neighbor’s middle‑school daughter wanted me to pierce her ears. Without hesitation, I did. Two well‑placed holes in her left ear. She squealed when she saw them in the mirror.
With one piercer left, I decided to pierce a fourth hole in my left ear. It was already sore from the third, so why not?
Pro‑tip: Do NOT pull or stretch your ear while piercing. When you let go, the hole will not be where you intended. Same logic as not pulling your eyelid while applying eyeliner unless you want the line to end up in the wrong place.
Because the upper part of my ear is narrow, I pulled it away from my head for better access. Deep sigh. When I released it, the fourth earring was awkwardly perched on the rim of my ear. As I removed it, the darkest, reddest blood seeped steadily down my ear and neck. Fantastic.
If I weren’t so weird about pictures of myself, I would’ve loved to capture and share this as a silly cautionary tale. I’ll probably try again.
I like trying. Mistakes only bother me when they hurt someone else. I wonder if feeling completely out of control over how shameful and “bad” I believed myself to be—at a cellular level—is what makes me this way. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s that I’m more inspired by the process than the outcome. I enjoy getting things right, obviously, but I definitely laugh and learn more when I mess things up.
If I felt I had to appear perfect, right, struggle‑free, and in control of outcomes and other people’s opinions, I would never leave my bed.
In my recent performance evaluation, my manager kindly said she appreciates how quickly I own and correct my mistakes—and that she’d like to see me just as quick and comfortable sharing my successes.
That will be awkward. And I will try.
