by: madeline milchman
I think a lot of people can remember a time in their life when someone pointed out something that immediately became an insecurity. Mine was when someone told me I had “elf ears”. For most of my life after that, whenever I found myself habitually tucking my hair behind my ears, I’d quickly undo it. No matter how frustrating my hair became, I refused to let anyone see my ears.
By the time my freshman year of highschool rolled around, I decided I was done disliking my body. I needed something that could teach me to appreciate my natural beauty, so I begged my mom to let me get a second piercing in my lobe. She was reluctant at first, but inevitably declared, “It's your body, your choice”, and she drove me to Piercing Pagoda where she signed the guardian permission papers.
Suddenly, instead of hiding my ears, I found myself drawing attention to them. I’d tuck my hair behind my ear and say, “look at my new piercing!” The dainty silver studs took my shame and transformed it into dignity. I now had qualities that allowed me to feel feminine rather than elf-like.
Not long after, during my junior year, I was begging for more. This time I wanted a nose piercing, and my parents, being the supportive people they are, grudgingly complied. My dad brought me, signed the papers, and watched as my clammy hands gripped the chair arms. Less than a year later, after my eighteenth birthday, my number of piercings doubled. Two more in my right ear, three more in my left ear, and one in my belly button, totaling eleven piercings.
For a large portion of my life, when I looked at my ears, all I saw was the way they pointed at the top. When I looked at my nose, I saw my large nostrils and ugly side profile. When I looked at my stomach, I saw my lack of abs. Now, when I look at these body parts, I find myself appreciating them a little bit more. My ear piercings are art, and my ears are the canvas. The silver hoop in my nose accepts its differences and loves it anyway. My belly ring moves with every breath I take because my body is healthy.
I get asked a lot “Why do you choose to put so many holes in your body?” At first, I thought this was a dumb question. Obviously, I like them, and I think they’re pretty. But as I write this, I’m trying to better understand why I get asked this.
When the majority of people think of the word “feminine”, they think of a specific type of beauty. A beauty that is natural and fits society's standard of perfection—I think this is where I differ from the people who ask me this question. Sure, the holes I put in my body aren’t natural, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t beautiful. The things that fit what I define as “feminine” are what make me happy with my body and who I am as a person.
So I’ve decided to stick with my original answer: the reason I put so many holes in my body is because I like them, and I think they’re pretty.
I recently accompanied a friend of mine to a piercing shop where she got her nipples pierced. I asked her why she did it, and I found that her reasons were similar to mine.
“I was always self conscious about my boobs, and I wanted something to make them beautiful and unique in their own way. Since piercing my nipples, I have become more confident in not only my boobs but also my body in general. Even wearing baggy clothing, my mindset changed from hiding myself in shame to hiding my body piercings as my own little secret.”
Just like in my experience, her piercings allowed her to love the parts of her she once hated.
Breasts are considered a very feminine body party, and a lot of people think nipple piercings ruin that. But for my friend, they did the opposite because they provided her with a new appreciation of her body which, in my opinion, makes her beautiful and feminine.
I can say with certainty that I love my body. My piercings definitely play a part in that, but I don’t pierce my insecurities to distract from my differences. I pierce my insecurities to help me see the perfection in them because, at the end of the day, what makes us all beautiful is what sets us apart from each other.