When I was a young girl, I spent a lot of time with my friend, Tonya. I wanted to be just like her. She was pretty and outgoing, and she was always doing something new and exciting.
If Tonya liked something, I decided I liked it too. “I love green olives,” she announced to me one day as she ate them straight from the jar. I had never eaten a green olive. Watching her devour them, I was certain they must taste great. She offered me one. I popped it into my mouth. The bitter flavor alarmed my taste buds. I wanted to like them, but I didn’t. My strong desire to be like Tonya overcame the bitter taste in my mouth. I decided I would learn to love green olives like she loved them. It took awhile, but I eventually acquired a taste for green olives and I actually enjoy them today.
We were about ten years old when Tonya announced her ears were pierced. She proudly displayed her new earrings. I was eager to join her in this adventure.
When the day arrived for my ears to be pierced, two of my mom’s friends arrived at our home, Tonya’s mom being one of them. My mom’s other friend had acquired a needle from her aunt who was a nurse. This occurred in the early 70’s, the dark ages when it comes to ear-piercing. There was no store where they pulled out a “piercing gun” and wah-lah. This more closely resembled a form of torture.
In my immaturity and ignorance, I took a seat at our dining room table. I seem to remember one of the ladies holding an ice-cube to my ear for approximately 30 seconds. Then someone placed a potato wedge behind my ear and proceeded to push the needle through my ear and into the potato. It seemed to take a very long time for the needle to make it through my ear. And oh, the pain and throbbing with every heartbeat.
I then received the revelation; I had two ears. If I would have had a sane thought at that point (no pun intended,) I would have said, “Let’s just stop now, pray for quick healing on my pierced ear and live an earring-free life.” But I was determined to be like Tonya, so on went the procedure.
My memory becomes foggy after the first ear; traumas such as this can leave you with memory lapses. Eventually it was over and I was wearing earrings. I then battled infected ears for ages, but being like Tonya made it all seem worthwhile.
Tonya and I both had really long hair, the “all the way down your back and you can almost sit on it” type of hair. When we were in 6th grade, Tonya’s mother cut her hair in a pretty shoulder length style. I thought it was the most beautiful haircut I had ever seen. Once again, I wanted to be like Tonya.
Tonya’s mother took the scissors to my hair, much to my dad’s sadness. The hair cutting experience was much more pleasant than the ear-piercing and I enjoyed the results. I was glad to be free of the heaviness of all that hair, and also happy to discover my recurring headaches went with it.
Tonya and I remained friends, though I finally outgrew the copycat stage. The older I became, I learned to appreciate who I was instead of being Tonya’s carbon copy. Life possibly became less exciting, but so much easier.