Ring of fire

I probably didn’t quite make his day.

“(Newspaper name), this is ThomG, how can I help you?”
“Did I read right, does our favorite outdoors writer have titanium earrings?”
“Yep.”
“That wasn’t a misprint?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, huh, I figured it was a misprint.”
Click.

I’m 44 years old. I’m fairly certain that the anniversary of having my ears pierced is close. A friend did them – both – while I was on Christmas break from the university.
Twenty-seven years ago.
She was working at the jewelry store while on her break from school. She did all the ear piercings. For years, she’d offer to piece a lobe. It was the 80s after all.
I relented.
She pierced my left lobe with a gold stud, told me how to take care of it.
I asked her about the other stud. The one that would go to waste.
“Would you let me pierce the other ear?” she asked.
I hate to disappoint.
And that’s how I wound up with both ears jeweled.
It was simply a matter of frugality.

I didn’t always wear two earrings. But the right hole never closed up. It was great when women would give me their earrings in clubs.
After the initial gold studs, I never wore gold again. Not my thing.
I had a little collection of silver hoops for a time. I lost them a lot, which was OK, since it was usually one I would lose. I’d just go with one hoop.
I ended up with surgical steel captured bead piercings in the early 90s. Both ears, full time.
Last year, I tried black niobium continuous loop rings.
But what I really wanted was titanium.
“It’s kind of hard to get, but I’ll see what I can do,” Billy said.
He came through.
I stretched the holes to fit the 10-gauge hoops about two months ago.
And promptly forgot about them.
They certainly do not define who I am.
It just is.