For 32 years I lived without ear piercings.
Correction: for 30.5 years I lived without ear piercings, then I spent the following year and a half making excuses as to why I shouldn’t go and get them pierced. Last Saturday, I decided on a whim to do it, now, before I could wimp out again.
So I did.
And I loved it. I was stunned by the awesomeness of jewelry that didn’t have giant clips in the back. I was enthralled by the notion of earrings that wouldn’t fall out if I moved my head the wrong way. They were small, and cute, and so darn sparkly.
I felt Noticeable.
Then I wondered, how noticeable is noticeable? As in, would my husband of nearly eight years pick up on the fact that his wife’s ears were suddenly twinkling in the sunlight?
That’s when I lit upon the Earring Experiment.
Hypothesis: To see how long the Man will take before he notices the earrings. Alternatively, before I crack with hysterical frustration and tell him.
Day 1, evening: A near miss. We were watching a boring movie and the Man started messing with my hair, dangerously near to my earlobe. I pretended I had a headache.
Day 2: A strange twist. We were eating lunch and the Maiden was busy boasting about what an awesome secret-keeper she was. Yes, she was in on this secret, because otherwise she might have noticed and blown my cover. “Mommy, I haven’t EVEN told Daddy about the secret about your EAR–”
Me: “Bababababababababa! Augh! Stop!”
The Man didn’t say anything.
So I asked him, “What did you hear?”
The Man: “Just something about an ear . . . but for all I know it could have been an ear of corn.”
Ear of corn? What the heck?
So now I’m a bit mystified as to my next step. Does he know about them and is just pretending he doesn’t because he somehow incomprehensibly thinks my getting my ears pierced is part of a Christmas present the Maiden and I are making for him? Does he think “ears” refers to his ears, in that we’re making him . . . er. . . what ear accoutrements do you make for a man, anyways? Earmuffs? When you live in the South? A Maiden-created anatomy book about the biology of the ear? Earache medicine? A pet earwig?
Okay, maybe I’m overthinking this. Let’s play it by . . . um . . . ear.
Day 3: The Man may be suspicious. He started telling me how he liked my new hairstyle, yet my hair hasn’t been cut in 6 weeks and needed to see a stylist a fortnight ago. On the other hand, maybe he likes my bangs covering my eyes so far that I can’t see straight and bump into stuff? Huh. I thought for sure his gaze would travel ear-ward, but no dice.
Day 4: Nothing. Nothing. Nada. This is getting my goat. Is he pretending he doesn’t know in order to mess with my mind? Because it is definitely messing with my mind. I slicked my hair back to better expose the sparkles. I spoke to him while facing forward. I washed my hair and paraded around in white-towel-turbaned glory. Surely stark white against flashing earlobes would tip one off, right?
To be continued . . .