Earlier this week when I was at the corner store picking up something or other, the man at the counter inquired as to whether or not my face hurt. A valid question, if you think that having a nose piercing results in constant, unrelenting pain. If you’ve never before seen somebody who is willing to poke a hole in the middle of their face in the name of beauty or expression, then you wouldn’t be a complete idiot for coming up with such a conclusion.
There was a time last June when, after a particularly terrible week, I decided to top off my call-in-sick-to-work day with a nose ring and booze. This was around the time that I couldn’t really hold down a job, because I was too much of an asshole to bother going. At the time I would insist that if the job weren’t so stupid, then I’d go. But clearly if the job was that “stupid”, that beneath me, then I was an idiot for continuing to work there. Rather than act like an adult and hand in my resignation, I decided that I’d rather spend my day poking a hole in my face and getting drunk. While I can’t remember what possessed me to get a navel ring when I was 17, I imagine that the reasoning was equally stupid. My piercings are not unique, nor are they even particularly cute. The only way that these may qualify as an expression of myself, is that they demonstrate a history of self destructive choices. At present, I maintain them for two reasons: On a vain note, they look better than the alternative (ugly scars). Also, I enjoy being reminded of what a douche I used to be (and still am).
When I decided to work in Korea, I figured that ripping out the nose ring was a forgone conclusion. Korean society is generally more conservative in regards to personal appearance than my homeland. Furthermore, my contract specifically called for no facial piercings. For once in my life, I planned on acting like an adult and treating my job with the proper respect. Hence, I removed my nose ring on the plane, probably somewhere over Alaska. I left the nose ring out for my entire first week of work.
And then I got curious.
Would I be able to get a nose stud back in after having not had anything in it for a full week? I’d heard from friends that theirs closed up within hours. While this had always struck me as exaggeration of epic proportions, I had never been able to test this. Until now. Naturally, I put aside 10 seconds of my Friday night so that I could force a stud back into my nose. It really only hurt a little bit. It was clear at this point that my friends were either lying or had absolutely no tolerance for pain. Or possibly that their nasal passages regenerate at a faster rate than mine.
Having learned that I have super nasal passages which don’t immediately regenerate upon removing a piece of metal from them, I determined that I could wear the nose stud on the weekends and then go to work according to dress code. Everybody wins.
And then my nose got infected. Of course.
It wasn’t a terrible infection, but it was red enough for a coworker and some students to take note. Everybody was concerned as to why my nose was so “sick”. I explained to my coworker that I had been wearing my piercing on the weekend, and that apparently taking it out and putting it back in all the time had irritated the hold. How unexpected! Naturally, she thought that I was an idiot.
It’s not really Korean-style to come right out and say that somebody is a fucking moron. Instead, she inquired as to why the heck I’d been taking it out in the first place. When I informed her that my contract called for no piercings, she told me that not only would The Boss Man not notice, but he wouldn’t particular care if he did. Didn’t I get the memo that I’m a foreigner and not held to the same standards as the Korean teachers? Or the other memo that states the final clause of my working contract: “Just kidding!” ?
From that point forward I kept my nose piercing in when I went to work. Every once in a while, one of my students will forget that we had the exact same conversation last week, and ask if my nose is “sick”. Then they’ll want to know if it hurts. I try to explain to them that it’s sort of like having an earring on your face. They are usually still horribly confused, which is just as well. It’s probably best that 10 year olds not understand why I desired to poke a hole in my face.
No comments:
Post a Comment