Mourning my inner punk, part II

Before I jump into the meat of this post I’d like to apologize for my absence over the past few days.  I have no good excuse, but I blame my friend Jason entirely.  Let me explain.

Two or three days ago I was talking to a friend on Instant Messenger.  He said he had sent me an invitation to Facebook and that I should sign up because it was great craic.  I should mention that I haven’t seen Jason in years since he still lives in Belfast and I haven’t been back to Ireland since, well let’s see, 2000?  The 5 hour time difference usually means that we are on line at completely different hours and should those hours overlap it is only for a brief span of time.  So, when Jason suggested I check  out Facebook as a means of “hanging out” more often, I couldn’t turn it down.  DAMN YOU JASON!!!!!  It is a complete and utter time suck.  Over the past few days I have found myself obsessively logging on every moment that MJ is asleep, not for anything important mind you, but Jason and I have been embroiled in a Pirates war and his damned Slayer keeps kicking my Vampire’s ass.  What’s a girl to do?  I have to retaliate.

So, to make a long story short (too late) blame Jason for my lack of blogging, Buzzing and generally socializing in every other respect.   I’d leave you a link to his blog so you can bitch him out for me, but the bugger doesn’t even blog.  So, if you’re on Facebook find him in my friends list and harass him that way… and while you’re at it, kick his skinny Slayer ass for me.

 ***            ***            ***            ***            ***            ***

 Back in July of last year when I was just starting to show while preggo with MJ I wrote a post called mourning  my inner punk in which I lamented the loss of my nipple and belly rings.  I mean, breastfeeding is a challenge enough without having to worry about rings getting in the way and let’s be honest, it doesn’t matter how big the hoop or bar bell in your belly button is, when you’re 9 months pregnant and feeling like a beached whale, the ring just doesn’t feel good.

More recently, and almost exactly a year after that lament I wrote a post about getting myself back.  CableDad and I had taken a weekend holiday and I had my belly ring and nipple rings put back in through a process called stretching. I was thrilled to have my old piercings back.

Well, today I’m mourning my inner punk again.  In recent weeks MJ has decided that I make the perfect jungle gym.  I lie on the floor of her room and she just loves crawling all over me.  Great.  It’s fun for both of us.  That is, it’s fun until she decided that the shiny silver having off of Mamma’s face needs to be pulled out.  It’s fun until she gets her toes caught in my belly ring as she crawls across me.  Yeah, that’s not so fun.  In fact, it downright hurts.  Luckily the nipple rings are protected under at least two layers of clothes at all times and haven’t yet been assaulted.

This morning I gave in.  Out came the eyebrow and belly rings.  I’ve been fighting with myself over it for quite some time, but each time she gets caught on one of them they rip and, well, let’s be honest, it neither feels nor looks good.  The last straw for me was the other day when I was in Wild Oats with MJ and one of the stock boys asked me if I had just recently gotten my eyebrow pierced.  Um, no.  Sorry, it’s been in there for, let’s see probably about 13-14 years now.  Nope, I just have a baby who likes to try to rip it out.

So this morning I post to you a less decorated woman.  I’m two barbells lighter.  I hate it.  But what can I do?

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~ by CableGirl on Friday, October 26, 2007.

11 Responses to “Mourning my inner punk, part II”

  1. Oh, how I can identify. No, I don’t sport body jewelry (although I did have an eyebrow ring for a while), but these are the little things that affirm that we’re still the essentially the same person we were BC (before child). As you know, I do Muay Thai. It is one thing I cannot let go of because I know if I do, I will immediately: grow a dad gut, buy a fanny pack, sport a Big Dog T-shirt and start wearing my running shoes from 1995. I’m fightin it CableGirl, I’m fightin…

  2. Facebook. Sigh. If I would have KNOWN it was going to end up like this, I wouldn’t have signed up for it. I can actually go back and see the decline in posts and as the exact time I joined up with facebook. It’s frightening how it gets you so addicted, yes?

  3. Ow, ow, ouch

    That must smart.
    And I too was addicted to facebook, but I am a little better now. I still like it, but I don’t have to be on it for too many hours…

  4. Oh those evil facebook applications can suck you in for hours and hours. I’ve started culling them. Too much of a time suck!

  5. Sorry about the loss of rings. If you’ve had your eyebrow ring for 13 years, that must be a big deal for you. I didn’t know you had been to Belfast. I was an exchange student in N. Ireland in the summer of 93. So what’s the difference between Facebook and having a blog?

  6. that must have hurt a lot, I mean toes getting stuck in the ring.

  7. {{{Facebook}}} Ahoy matey!!!

  8. I’m still all confused about the vampire thing… and yes, as you know, I got sucked into facebook, too, lol. Anyway, how do you play? Also, if I can find this Israeli video, it will give you a whole new spin on anything MJ has done. It’s absolutely hysterical. here it is:

  9. ouchie! I am constantly climbed on as well. I feel like I have to dress for the gym just to hang out with my kids!

  10. I’m wandering about the NaBloPoMo site WAY too much and then these Red Sox kept winning late at night….

    Sorry about the body piercings. Kids have a way of robbing you of your identity and giving you new ones in their place.

  11. While I read every word of the “inner punk” thing, I kind of blurred my vision a little and skimmed really quickly, because I was afraid I might vomit.

    The Facebook vampire wars are one of my biggest time sucks. I have already fought today, and I’m loooking forward to more battles tonight. DORK.

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