I was a senior in high school when I got my bellybutton pierced. Obviously. What else do silly, teenage girls do when they hit the legal age?
Go to the porn shop and pierce their bellybuttons, that's what. I think I also bought a scratch-off lottery ticket that day, but that about hits the nail on the head.
Rebellious, I know.
My sister was already in college at the time, and a product of a tongue piercing, much to our mother's very strong dismay, still, eight years later.
I remember the day we posed for a picture of a mother's worst nightmare - my sister and I laying in the grass, I with my belly button exposed, and her with her tongue out.
Classy, I know. But hey, we were rebels. With no cause, really. Just rebels.
In the time since, our levels of rebellion have fluctuated. Tattoos, drinking, another tattoo and another, speeding tickets, that time I left for the weekend and forgot to take care of the dog. You know, that kind of thing.
I like to think my sister's rebellion has exceeded mine, but who am I to judge? Oh hell, who am I kidding? I'm completely judgmental. She wins the rebel award.
But when she and I got together a few weekends ago, we thought we'd take one more trip down Rebel Lane to make our mama proud.
"Let's go get our noses pierced!"
I believe that's how it started, and each of us with a tiny, diamond stud in our left nostrils is how it ended.
This makes it round two for my nose, after I took out my last nose ring over a year ago because I thought, perhaps, I wouldn't be taken seriously in the professional world. (Silly me).
I always regretted taking it out, and secretly longed for the tiny shred of rebellion back on my face. And here it is.
Turns out mom wasn't even shocked.
"I didn't even know you took your last one out," she admitted.
And the first thing she said to my sister was, "Do you still have that damn tongue ring?"
So I guess there's not much we can do these days to shock the woman who birthed us. Clearly we've tried. But at least we got some killer body art out of the attempts.