My Mom Had One Rule and I Broke It

I sat at my mother's dining room table with my finger up my left nostril. I had an audience of septuagenarians, who seemed mildly entertained by my organ contortion, and slightly confused as to why a 44-year-old woman would have a nose ring. I'd been asked how the ring stayed in and this was my attempt to show them the L-shaped metal post inside my nose. I gave up but then remembered I had a spare stud in my purse. I passed the little zip lock sealed baggy around the table like a show and tell.

My mom's friends, with whom my parents and I were sharing dinner and stories from the old days, humored me but my mom rolled her eyes. She thinks the piercing is silly, not pretty, and doesn't do anything for my already large nose. I could hear her eyes roll four years ago when I called to let her know that I'd stopped by a local tattoo and piercing parlor while doing Christmas shopping for my kids and gotten my nose pierced. I've been obsessed with getting my nose pierced since I was a pre-teen and she's been against it every day since then. She disliked the idea so much that she forbade me to get one. Sitting at that table, across from her grown child, I knew she wished she still made the rules in my adulthood.

I packed the spare ring safely back into my purse and gave Mom a grin before asking, "Remember when I got a nose ring in high school and we got in a huge fight?"

She laughed. "I sure do. As a matter of fact...hang on a second." She stood up and walked to my old bedroom which now serves as a spare bedroom/office. Seconds later she returned with a piece of paper. It looked like a letter with a typewriter font. She handed it to me and I realized I was holding a photocopy of my 1996 college admissions essay about our fight over me getting a nose ring.

"No way!" My voice escalated with excitement. "I can't believe you have a copy of this! I remember typing it on a typewriter!"

The college nose ring essay is part of my life's legend and lore as I often share that my current nose jewelry is not my first. I also share that my mom was perhaps more relaxed than other parents and, in retrospect, more trusting of my judgment than she should have been. At 15, she let me and my out-of-state cousin take a Greyhound bus an hour and a half away to Boston, telling us at the station drop off that morning to "give her a ring" when we got back at night and needed a ride home. I never had a curfew. I watched R-rated movies and swore at my leisure.

"Listen," I tell others, "My mom was so lax! It was awesome. But---she had one rule. Just one. Not tattoos or piercings until I turned 18. Well, I got the tattoo on my 18th birthday but, unfortunately, I broke her one rule and got a piercing." I always wrap up with the same ending, "Yup. I even wrote my college essay about it."

We had a good laugh as I read the essay out loud that night and I reconnected with my seventeen-year-old voice. I laughed at certain sentences and cringed at others. Mom may not be a fan of my nose ring but she has always been a fan of my writing and has been the keeper of my first personal essay for decades. I'm thrilled it has resurfaced. It is the official artifact to corroborate the legend of the nose ring and a testament to my mother's and my love for one another.

Here it is, exactly as it was originally typed and submitted.

(P.S.- I got in!)

I can usually relate to my mom pretty well. She and I are not on the same wave lengths, obviously due to our 30 year generation gap. Nevertheless she and I connect more often than not. I can tell her everything sooner or later, and I know she has the ability to accept my changes more than anyone else on earth. For these reasons I cherish and respect her with all of my heart. That's why I'm not sure why I went against her one rule. To this day I'll never know what made me get my nose pierced. My mom has always been liberal about my following teenage trends and being my own person. She never said a word about my violet or red-dyed hair, my platform sneakers, or my need to wear my older brother's boyscout uniform to school. She let me experiment. She was lenient with other rules as well, I had no curfew, I was never grounded and I could date whomever I wanted and even drive in cars with older boys! When I did something wrong, and believe me, I wasn't always an angel she decided it was up to me to try to fix the problem and that my own guilt and shame would make me see the "right way." Usually it worked.

I didn't plot getting the ring. My original intention was to wait until I turned eighteen. Then I went on vacation with some friends, went into a shop and saw a sign for inexpensive piercings for all ages. It was such a temptation! I thought about it and how my mom would react. But the doubts left my mind after about a half hour. Mom had always been cool about things like this in the past, why would she freak out? I was seventeen anyway, one year early. Big deal. She'd be mad at first, but then get over it. She always did. And oh... how good it would look! My so long sought-after nose ring finally at my fingertips! Yes!

What a shock I received when I returned home from my getaway. Mom didn't get over it, it crushed her. She couldn't talk to me or look at me. Why did I break her rule? She wanted to know. Didn't I respect her? Did I ever really? Obviously not. Our special connection was lost. We were no longer friends. I was an ungrateful child. My immature desires overcame my morals and my mom felt her job at bringing me up had been defeated. There was no way of ever taking back what I'd done.

Fate works in mysterious ways. My beloved nose ring got infected and I was forced to take it out for health reasons. Mom was right. They aren't always safe. Fortunately the "out of sight out of mind" strategy worked in this case. As quickly as the hole closed in my nose, so did the separation between my mother and me. I'm appreciative of her for forgiving me for my stupid impulse, and allowing me the chance to build back our special bond. I wish I'd realized earlier how much hurt I'd caused her. But now I know, and my mother's love and respect is much more important than any hole in my nose could ever be.