A Sparkling Schnoz Gone Awry

My conservative, older (but less mature), straight-laced sister shocked the family when she got her nose pierced. For its 1.5 month life-span, that little diamond stud was like the fifth member of our nuclear family. Sadly, an abcess (small bump filled with fluid next to the stud, only visible when staring at her nose from close range) formed, and together as a family we went to get the nose ring removed.

When we walked in to the piercing/tattoo parlor, it was as if the Partridge Family had rolled in. The "artist" behind the counter said, "Can I help you, folks???" My sister approached the counter and said that she had her nose pierced, there's a bump, and did he see it?

"Fuck yo! I see it."

Great, we're all in agreement here. He then proceeded to examine the nose ring and accompanying abcess from many angles, mainly underneath. The man instructed my sister to look up so he could "get a look atch’ ya jewelry." Dutifully, my sister raised her head up high. Good girl, very good girl.

He then called over his colleague who would actually remove the nose ring. There emerged an extremely large (wide) man, 5 ft tall, possessing 15 gold teeth. He was clad in G.I. Joe print pants and wore a baseball hat to the side. He told my sister that, for a charge, he could remove her piercing.

She said, "Ok, but is there gonna be a massive hole??" Massive, Sister? Do you have a bull ring piercing or a dainty little stud??

My sister followed him to the back of the store, but he told my mom and I that for insurance reasons, we couldn’t go with her. We just wanted to hold her hand. Apparently, no can do.

So, we waited in an area that thus took on the feel of a waiting room. I looked at the options for tattoos decorating the walls, my mom sat quietly in her oversized, down winter jacket on a bench, and my dad paced back and forth (is she getting a piercing out or delivering his first grandchild?)

From the back, we heard something reminiscent of the "are we there yet" complaint cycle. My sister repeatedly asked, "Is it out yet??"

I counted about eight instances of her asking if she'd have a huge hole in her nose when it was gone. Yeah, it's called a nostril.

As he twisted the ring out, she cried.

Twist, whimper, twist, tear, twist....

All the while, he tried to appease my sister’s angst by calling her “sweetheart” and asking distracting questions, like a doctor giving a small child a shot. “What grade are you in?”

She was 26 at the time.

When my sister emerged from the back, she stood before us looking vulnerable, with three q-tips sticking out from her nostril.

Sister: "Mommy...it bled."

My mom, still seated (thank God), had her hand over her mouth, and shook her head side to side. Dad - still pacing.

My mom paid the man, and on the way out said, "Aaron, I tipped him. He was a nice boy."

Driving home, it was quiet in the car, aside from a few scattered murmurings from my sister:

"Maybe I'll get the other side pierced."

"I felt so liberated with the piercing."

"I feel like half a woman now." Story of my life.