MOTHERING

She Broke the Rules, Paid

by Fern Kupfer

During the 16th summer of her life, this was what she wanted to do: geta tattoo, pierce her nose, dye her hair shoe-polish black. No, we saidemphatically to the first request. No and no to the next two.

"It's my body," she said.

"It's the body that we feed and clothe and help take care of," herfather and I said, standing firm. All right. Not so firm. Finally, aftermonths of her haranguing, we gave in on the hair issue. One of ourarguments had been that she should not mar herself in a way she mighteventually come to regret. But dyeing her hair, she reminded us, was notpermanent. Hair, after all, grows out. OK, we said grudgingly.

The next day, she appeared at the dinner table looking chic thoughslightly ghoulish with blue-black hair and pale skin. "It's notpermanent," she reminded us. (The stains on the bathroom walls areanother story.)

We remained adamant about the tattoo and the nose ring. "But why?"she lamented. We said to her that we wanted her to have a summer job. Wesaid that unless she was applying for a job with a rock-and-roll band, atattoo and a nose ring was not a look most employers coveted.

We showed her an article about tattoo needles and the possiblespread of AIDS. One of her friends told her how much getting a tattooactually hurt. She was somewhat dissuaded.

The nagging about the nose piercing, however, continued. She longedfor a nose ring. For some reason a small hoop dangling off the side ofone nostril became a symbol for everything hip, cool and free.

"I really, really want it," she told us. That, in itself, was not asufficient reason to get one, we explained.

"You know," she said one night as I was making dinner, "I could justgo out and get it done. I don't need parental permission to pierce mynose." Her face lit up with the revelation. "And you can't really doanything to stop me."

"I know that," I said calmly stirring the pasta.

"You do?"

"Yes, we can't stop you from getting a nose ring," I said.

"Right!" she said, beginning suddenly to enjoy the upper hand.

"But," I began . . . There was a very pregnant pause during which Ithink the pasta overcooked. I tasted a strand. "But," I repeated, "ifyou do choose to get your nose pierced, knowing your father and I havesaid you could not, then there would be consequences."

"Like what?" she wanted to know.

The words came trippingly to the tongue. She does need us, after all — though at this age not for approval or companionship orcompatability. "Like no car," I said. "If you choose to get your nosepierced without our permission," — the word choose was important here,I thought — "then be prepared to be more independent than you arenow."

I told my husband how well I had handled the situation. There was noyelling. No tears. Just a reasonable conversation. We were smug for awhile.

Then she came home with a nose ring. Well, not a ring, yet, but ashiny silver stud about the size of a pimple. "I did it last night," shesaid somewhat abashed. "My friends told me you would get used to it."

She had had her nose pierced the night before when she attendedLollapalooza. Lollapalooza, if you don't know, is a marathon rockconcert — sort of like Woodstock but not as sweet-spirited. The groupsall seem to have names like Malice in Chains and Bondage, Puke andTears.

It seems there was a totally cool "piercing" booth atLollapalooza. "But they didn't do nipples," she explained.

Her father was furious. "You disobeyed me!" he yelled, sounding likesome 19th-Century patriarch. "I cannot trust you. You betrayed me!"

Then we asked for the car keys back. "This was a choice made," Isaid calmly, reminding her of our conversation.

She was incredulous. "You really wouldn't let me drive ever again?"she said. The stud in her nose glinted in the early morning light.

"Certainly you can drive again," I said. "When you buy your own carand pay for your own insurance."

She thought for about 10 seconds before asking: "What if I took thestud out right now?"

We said that she probably should be punished in some way for havingdisobeyed us, but since she wouldn't be wearing a nose ring, then takingaway the car forever did seem a bit harsh.

Here's an interesting bit of anatomical news: A small hole in theside of one's nostril closes up when the stud is immediately removed.There is no visible scar.

Afterward, my husband felt a little badly. He thought we might havebroken her spirit. No, I said. She was the one who made a choice withthis one. And it was a wise, grown-up choice. She didn't cut off hernose to spite her face. And she didn't keep the hole in her nose tospite her parents.

Fern Kupfer is a novelist and writing professor at Iowa State University. She is a frequent contributor to Working Moms' Internet Refuge.

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