No problem. I was all about being classy and grown up. I whispered and was polite. I might've curtsied at the man in the dashing suit who asked "if he could help us". Mom tells him I wish to have my ears laden and bespeckled with jewels from the most famous South American diamond mines and to break the Hope Diamond into pieces so they could bedeck my ears... or something like that...she conveyed I needed to get my ear's pierced for my birthday.
We were escorted to a cafe style chair with gleaming brass and burgundy cushion. I climbed onto my pedestal, and awaited for the anointing of my ears. First, a woman jewelry store sales person came to aid us in the ear piercing rite of passage and the man in the suit departed. She was beautiful and wearing the finest jewelry money could buy. She wore fancy clothes and perfectly coiffed hair. She wore full makeup, on a Saturday afternoon, no less! She was a goddess.
The Goddess of Ear Piercing swabbed one of my soon to be queenly earlobes with alcohol. She took a felt tipped marker and made a small dot on my ear lobe. My mother approved the future placement of where said earrings would go. Then this creature of beauty showed me a tray of earrings. Hoops and studs. Colors and plain. Ah the choice, the choice! I would have to live with these for a month, a whole month. What to pick? The options seemed limitless. They sparkled. They shined. They were perfection on a velvet covered tray. Finally after much deliberation (and prodding from my mother) I selected the sapphire gold studs. After all I was a September baby and what was more regal that such a brilliant blue stone that would flash in the sun light? Then the saleswoman took out a gun. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. A gun. My Jewelry store Goddess became Rambo and the Terminator all rolled into one. I swear she morphed before my very eyes, becoming dirty and smudged and the sounds of a helicopter hovered in the background as she adjusted her Rambo like beret and belly crawled across the store in her camos. I started shaking and quaking. I was sweating. She grabbed my earring from her bandoleers and snapped the earring of choice into the chamber. She took aim with her weapon and pulled the trigger, never once flinching at my scream of terror.
And that is the totally true tale of how Maggie got her ears pierced. Do I dare share the story of my first tattoo?