Ahhhh youth ...

I feel pathetic. And old.

I went down to Queen Street the other day with my step-daughter. The purpose of our excursion was two-fold. First, we were going to New Tribe (a tattoo and piercing parlour) and then we were going to a particular store to shop. The reason for the pit stop at the tattoo parlour, you ask? Here's where the pathetically old comes in: during a conversation with Celine, I mentioned that I wanted to get both of my ears pierced a second time, and the left one a third time. This is something I'd wanted to do since I was fourteen, but never dared to (could barely face the wrath of my mother when I was thirteen and went off and pierced the first holes). Of course, she egged me on and then offered to come and hold my hand during the deed.

Then she mentioned once again, how she's been thinking of getting a tattoo. I wanted to be supportive, but just couldn't egg her on with the same enthusiasm as she had me. Instead, I remained fairly non-committal and expressed the cons of doing so. Granted, she only wanted a very small tattoo, in a very discreet location. In fact, she was thinking of only doing the outline and not filling it in. It didn't sound so bad, but I knew that both of her parents would freak if they knew, so I couldn't exactly start chanting "Do it! Do it! Do it!" So, I said that if she really was going to go ahead and get a tattoo, that I wanted to be the one to go with her and check out the place to make sure it was kosher. I figured that I couldn't stop her from doing what she wanted to do, unless I pulled out the authoritarian parent card (which would seem weird since I've never done that), but that I could at least exercise some control if I was present.

As it turned out, she didn't end up getting a tattoo. Five minutes en route to Queen Street, when I asked her if she was really and truly sure that she wanted to get a tattoo, she exclaimed "Oh no! I forgot the picture!" She'd left the photo of what she wanted at home (Perfect Circle's symbol). I offered to turn around and go back home, but then she started waffling and saying that maybe she should do a little bit more research before actually going ahead with the deed. Having a degree in Psychology, with a big emphasis on Freudian analysis, I felt that really and truly, this was her subconscious way of declaring that she didn't want a tattoo. In the face of a consenting and supportive parental figure, she found a way to get out of it gracefully. I let her off the hook and gently said "That's a good idea, honey".

I have to admit though that I felt really self-conscious and foolish when we arrived at New Tribe. I had to step up and announce to this very young and very tattoo'ed and pierced teenager at the counter that I wanted my ears pierced. I swear, I could feel her thinking "yeah, like that's really going to fool everyone into believing that you're young and cool". Had I been younger, I might have caved into the perceived peer pressure and signed up for major tattoo'ing!

I felt even older and squarer when the teenybopper presented me with a selection of jewelry for my piercings, none of which included any studs. I found myself wishing that I'd gone somewhere that had some really lovely little bejewelled earrings instead. I picked the smallest and most discreet silver barbells for all three of my piercings. (Again, I could feel the girl thinking "Boooooo-RRRRRRing!").

Afterwards, we had a really good time shopping for the rest of the afternoon. Celine took me to a store afterwards where she'd bought a whole bunch of great tops on sale a few days earlier. The salesgirl recognised her and then kept referring to me as her "friend", as though we were the same age (see, the piercings really did work).

The highlight of my day was walking down the street with her and having every young twenty-ish guy ogle the two of us and nudge his buddy. This would never happen if I was alone, but with her, everyone assumed that we were more or less the same age (well, okay but at least confined to the same decade). It's funny how when you're old, you suddenly revel and relish these moments which, when they happened fifteen or twenty years earlier, you just rolled your eyes.

I know, I know. I am really pathetic. And old. But at least I don't have any delusions about myself, right?

P.S. For those of you who think I am going through mid-life crisis and that the piercings are my way of expressing it, I say "You better believe it!"