By law I am an adult. The day I turned eighteen I became responsible for myself and my actions. I was bestowed with the ability to vote, to buy cigarettes, but most importantly for me at the time, I could get pierced without parental consent. But because the law says at age eighteen I am an adult, am I really?
At A Glance Author Lauren Contact [email protected] IAM notjustmoreidlechatter When N/A While sixteen and studying in Spain a fellow student had gotten a tattoo. Word spread like wildfire throughout the dorm in which we lived and soon enough there were at least a dozen students running around the building sporting newly acquired metal and bright splashes of color all of their bodies. An eyebrow ring here, a butterfly on a shoulder there.
Being sixteen and coming from an extremely conservative background, this opened up a whole new world for me. This was not rebellion, this was far past that. This was realization. I had wanted my tongue pierced for three years, and now I could have it knowing the only consequences I would have to face were those served up by my parents on my return trip to New York. With that said, I got my tongue pierced along with six of my friends.
Once back in New York, I saw someone sporting an industrial piercing in their ear. In that instant, I knew I needed it. I was on the brink of seventeen and a few friends of mine had tipped me off as to where I could get pierced with no identification, just an assurance that I was of age. And so came that now familiar realization. I could have this if I wanted it. I would just need to hide it from my parents. I promised myself that my industrial, my second 'real' piercing, would also be my last. That did not last long at all.
By the time I left for college I was almost eighteen. I had taken out my tongue piercing by then and had successfully managed to hide my industrial for a year. Over the course of my freshman year in college, I managed to acquire six new ear piercings. I just couldn't stop myself. I hid all of these from my parents until that April, a year and eight months since I had gotten my first industrial. At that point, there was really nothing they could do save expressing their disappointment in me.
Over the next couple of years in school, I had managed to acquire a total of 22 shiny accouterments, mostly without my parents' knowledge or approval. I knew they would disapprove so I would never disclose when I was on the receiving end of something new and shiny. What I didn't understand at the time was that while my mother disapproved because she was disgusted by piercings themselves, my father had a much more valid reason; he wasn't sure how my piercings would physically affect my already failing health twenty or thirty years down the line and, more importantly, how would it affect me when the time came for me to get a job. I have never been that far-sighted and while I did give a lot of thought to some of my piercings (a lot to what I wanted, but more as to how I could hide them), a lot of them I had also gotten impulsively.
As a teenager I had always believed myself to be fairly responsible. I got good grades in school, I played sports, I worked two jobs at any given time and I volunteered my time to those in need daily. Turning eighteen was a self-confirming event for me. I thought it would give people a reason to take me as seriously as I took myself instead of just looking at me as a kid. This brings me back to my original question: Because the law says I'm an adult at the age of eighteen, am I really? In hindsight, for me anyway, the obvious answer is a resounding 'no'. The sheer fact that I had to hide all of my piercings from my parents for fear of retribution, not to mention the fact that I had to get pierced in another country and at a shop that didn't check identification confirms this as far as I'm concerned. I was able to make 'adult decisions' but I was not an adult. Of course, that was not how I looked at it at the time.
So now, here I am, in the home stretch of what everyone considers my last 'big' birthday. In three weeks, I will be twenty one and in less than a year, pending I pass all of my classes, I will be a college graduate and in search of a job. Evaluating myself as objectively as possible, I'm more responsible than I have ever been. In a few months, however, I will not be the only one evaluating myself. I will be forced to face potential employers and coworkers and they will either accept me and my qualifications - or not. Being that this is fairly imminent, I recognize that my piercings may play a big part in the 'or not' category and that's alright. My response to that can come in one of two forms. I can either acknowledge my defeat and continue my search or vilify said potential employers for being closed-minded and intolerant. My modifications have always been my decision and I will not allow anyone to tell me if I can keep them or not. Instead of lashing out about ho w prejudiced and tyrannical the world is, I'll accept it for that moment, and move on � my first real adult decision.