Posted: Tuesday, December 18, 2012 3:27:37 AM
Hi. My name is Savannah Thorpe and I used to keep a wonderful blog until I went to college and died. Not literally, but I did this crazy thing where I decided to stop loving myself for a little while and took 20 credits worth of classes, took up fencing, and joined the gospel choir. But I just took my last exam Friday afternoon and I don’t go back to school until the beginning of February. So until then, I plan on taking the College page of this awesome website by storm and offering first-hand advice on good ideas, bad ideas, and all those funny ideas in between.
Before we delve into the tragic comedy that has been my love life thus far, we’ll start with an equally laughable epic debacle of an episode known as “the time I got a lip ring.”
For those of you who don’t know, I have a nose stud. I got it the day after I graduated from high school. My time there didn’t end spectacularly, and the draconian uniform rules prevented all kinds of piercings besides one or two in the earlobe. So the following Saturday, I loaded my mom and grandma up in my little Honda so that they could sign off on the papers saying “I hereby allow this strange, slightly overweight inked-up 40-year-old to puncture my 17-year-old daughter’s face” and left with a cute little stud on the right side of my nose. Super sassy.
Well, after that, I realized how much I loved the experience of having piercings done. I promise I’m no masochist by any stretch. I keep Phineas and Ferb band-aids around for when I get paper cuts, for goodness sake. But the thrill leading up to the piercing, the sharp pain of the needle, and the ultimate reward of having a new decoration or piece of jewelry...I love the whole journey.
Off to college I went in August, knowing full well that, as an adult in the eyes of the law, I could now sign my own face and body away to be punctured or doodled on. I’m a little indecisive, so I figured I’d hold off on a tattoo for a while. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted another non-ear piercing. I don’t believe in the quiet and subdued. If I’m gonna have something done, then gosh darn it, everyone’s gonna notice. I brought up the prospect of acquiring either a eyebrow bone or a lip ring to my friends, who lauded the courageous attitude behind it, put quickly tried to talk me into my senses. The kid I was dating at the time agreed with them as well, but encouraged the eyebrow over the lip because he was concerned that kissing would be weird. And I’m that kid who, the more people tried to tell me something was impossible or ill-conceived, wanted to do it more.
That Saturday, I decided that I would make a bad decision. The following week, I would go get a lip ring. That was that. Everyone in my family told me it was yucky and a thoroughly poor plan. And on the inside, I totally agreed. I’m not that much of a hard-edge or badass. I just wanted something a little rebellious that I could look back on after the decision was reversed and say, “that was a colorful little chapter.” However, on the outside, I was all kinds of gun-ho for the lip ring. This was going to happen. I would totally deny the advice my parents gave me and do something I knew was stupid.
So after classes one Friday afternoon, I took the one friend of mine who thought this “lip ring” plan was a good idea, and half an hour later, I waltzed back into my dorm building with a ring on the left side of my mouth. Super kickass.
I felt like the coolest kid at IUP. I had it going on. I had blond bangs, a nose stud, and a lip ring. That was it.
Well, the lip ring only lasted maybe a month and a half. And there were a few reasons for that. First off, I knew from the start that I wouldn’t wear the thing home for Thanksgiving. My grandmother probably would have died on the spot. In addition, it was kind of a pain. I could always feel the thing scraping against my teeth, mouthwash would often leak out the hole in my face, and it hurt so badly when I tried to wear lip gloss because it would always get inside the actual hole. I’ll be totally honest -- it was kinda gross.
But the real thing that did it in for me was when I was visiting a friend of mine, and because I had the facial piercing, her friends offered me alcohol and weed and acid. Not that I have an issue with people who do such things. But because of a piece of jewelry in my face, they sort of jumped to that conclusion. And that pissed me off highly.
A week, an RA, and two pairs of pliers later, all I had left was a small scar under my lip. Was it sort of fun for a while? Yeah. But after all the hullabaloo, I realized that the ring was never really me. It was fun and goofy for a while, but the message it displayed wasn’t the one I wanted people to get when they looked at me.
The moral of the story is this: Make bad decisions. Make lots of them. Just make sure they’re reversible.