cutato is back

A new friend of mine asked me today about passion. No, not the crappy soap opera, and no, not the steamy kind of passion, but as in what I'm passionate about. I've spent most of the past few months trying to remember, reshape and reclaim who I am as a singular person, and what I'm all about. This extends to all aspects of my life from the way I dress, to the people I associate with, and even the way I text. It's funny how you can lose yourself, but it's kind of fun playing Where's Wally with myself.



Recently I finally decided to get my ear re-pierced. For the past year or more I've only had an earring in the left side of my ear since the right one healed over after an infection and scar tissue dramas. It's funny how barely anyone noticed (— side note: think about this next time you're all stressed and worried about how other people think you look. Honestly, no one pays as much attention to yourself as you do). I'd been meaning to get it re-pierced and kept telling myself that I was too lazy, but really, I was a little freaked to get it done.

Let me square with you, I had an extreme phobia of needles. The first time I got my ears pierced I was around ten. I spent two hours doing laps in a shopping mall with my dad trying to pluck up the courage. It wasn't until he put his foot down that I managed to step into the shop. Long story short, even though it had been my choice and I'd really wanted it done there were a lot of tears and screaming. I may have even been held down. After it was done I managed to faint outside the place and an old lady came over to offer assistance by offering my dad a trolley to wheel me around in.



My latest needle trauma was the cervical cancer injections during my final year of high school. I was one of the last to get it in my grade due to my avoidance tactics. This meant that the younger grades were starting to line up. I took a teddy bear my friend had given me from my 18th and clutched it as fat tears rolled down my cheeks. I considered it a victory that I didn't scream or pass out.

Now I'm in the so called best years of my life, and single to mingle to boot, I thought it was time to finally bite the bullet. Can I just say: I went, I saw, I conquered. I not only got three piercings, but there were no tears, no fainting, no screaming, and no teddy bears.

I admit, every time I look in the mirror and see my cartilage piercing I feel a little bad ass. I know it's no nipple piercing, but for me this represents the breaking free from the shackles of fear. So if you see me tuck my hair behind my left ear in the future, watch out. It means I'm bringing it. No fear.