And your brothers going to kill me and he's six feet ten

by Amy Turn Sharp


I lost my nose ring. I may have lost it today or three weeks ago. Dunno. This is another glaring indication of the mind-body-disconnection I have going on here. Stress is starting to hug me tighter. I did not notice metal in my flesh until it was gone. I have had it for a very long time, but still. I was always aware. It is kinda like the fact that I failed to realize that I had a long white hair growing from my eyebrow. Like a freaking Father Christmas eyebrow standing out bushy and I never knew.

I guess am off to this place later. The last time I was there was years and years ago and even then I felt like a fraud. I had to tell the serious piercer that indeed I had let a Mykonos jeweler shoot my nose with an old school earring gun while drunk on Ouzo. I could see the disappointment wash right over his complexion. I had not went through the real process. I was not authentically pierced. Tonight might be the night.

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