Pierced-story of a hemophobic
I waded towards the blue haired lady with ears adorned with piercings to get my septum pierced. Being a hemophobic, I couldn’t bolster up the courage to go through the needle piercing. Wedged between wanting to transcend my comfort zone and my blood phobia, I chose eyebrow piercing. Piercing sounds painful and an eyebrow one was definitely a bizarre impulsive decision; but it was the bizarre I had enlisted in my bucket list. Everything in life seems uncertain and amidst the hustling normative life plan, something as small as an eyebrow piercing seemed like an exit from the bustling highway of life. Piercings and tattoos are said to be embodiments of ‘cry for help’ but I associate them with power, power to be a little deviant, power of not caring about what others think, power to decide to be myself and have full control over something in life. It has been a day and the optimistic nihilist inside sees me in the mirror with a beaming smile mingled with liberation feeling invisible back slapping and hands shaking congratulating me for not fainting and for living in the moment.
