Let's face it: I've never been rock 'n' roll

So I took my eyebrow ring out last night.

At the moment I did, I just wanted to see if I could; in the three years that I've had it, I've never taken it out or even tried to. I liked the ring that I had, a little silver hoop with a ball. I didn't want anything gaudier or more noticeable. I just wanted my little reminder that I can be even mildly edgy.

Lately, however, I'd been thinking of taking out the ring and letting the holes grow closed. Several things prompted this: first and foremost, my kitten keeps trying to get her teeth in the ring and pull it out of my face when I'm sleeping. Second, possible graduate school visits and interviews are coming up, and it's not the most professional thing in the world, even if most people (somehow) never notice it's there. And finally, it's always annoyed me a little that the ring wasn't exactly on my eyebrow; it was a couple of millimeters below. This is what you get when you go to a piercing parlor in Prague on a whim; it's a fun story and a great memory, but the actual result is a little questionable.

I took it out, feeling a little uncertain as I pulled the ball from the tension of the ring, but God gave me an immediate sign that it was time for the eyebrow ring to go: the ball fell out of the tweezers and down the drain. It's in the U-bend of my sink pipe now, ne'er to return.

So it's gone, and I'm coming to grips. Of course, the holes haven't closed themselves overnight; I could still go out and get a replacement ring if I wanted to save it. But I think I won't; nobody seems to have noticed that it's gone, and I'm sort of enjoying the reverse edgyness of it (whatever that means). Maybe I'll get it re-done after I get into graduate school, maybe not. For now, though, I can stop worrying about waking up with blood in my eye and a smug cat on my chest.