the fringier part of me

Last night I was the first to arrive for dinner. It was my monthly book club which rarely talks books but manages to cover a vast range of other topics. I arrived at the restaurant, an old neighborhood standby that had recently relocated to a deserted stretch of 8th street. Not feeling like waiting outside in the cold, about to snow dark, I looked around to see if anything was open where I could browse for a few minutes.

Right next door was a piercing shop. Glancing in the window I recognized almost none of the shining bits and pieces but I ventured in. The man behind the counter took one look at middle aged me and looked back to his magazine. Apparently a funky vintage coat and cool boots don't make much of an impression.

Still, I walked the dimly lit gauntlet to the back of the store and asked if they had any nose jewelry. He glanced at me again, spotted the gold glimmer in my nostril, and pulled out a black velvet display studded with the tiniest of jewels.

He got friendlier as I asked about different options and which were easiest to change and why. I then screwed up courage to ask if he could explain how to get my own piercing out. There's a mysterious labyrinth living inside my nose that's a puzzle I afraid to attempt.

Excitedly he explained how to remove the u-shaped stud, even drawing a diagram to refer to. I then learned that should I buy something there, the salesperson would help me remove the old and insert the new.

I gave a secret moment of silence to those whose job it is to stick their fingers up other people's noses all day.

I saw what I want. A bezel cut tiny diamond set in white gold. Simple. Clean. Sparkly.

I'm thinking that should all my kidney testing go as planned, I'm treating myself to some new nose bling on the way home.