Let's get this straight. I don't have something ON my nose. I have something STRAIGHT THROUGH MY FUCKING NOSE AND IT HURTS.
Today, my darling husband walked through the door and was met with a vision.
This vision was wrapped in a green flannel bathrobe with lobsters printed on it, hunched over the counter, with her entire face jammed into a finger bowl.
"Salt water bath." I explained. Except it sounded like "salwaderbad" because my face was actually underwater and I was breathing through my mouth.
I stood up and the salt water, snot, and bits of dried blood ran down my face and rolled off my chin. There was no dignity to be reclaimed in this situation. I pulled my robe around me and dabbed at my face.
"It's a salt water bath. I am supposed to submerge THIS 4 times a day, for 15 minutes." I explained, gesturing towards my face.
My face which is now adorned with a small stainless steel piercing in my left nostril.
He picked up the care instructions sheet I had been given by the piercer.
"Wow. FOUR times a day for 15 minutes, huh?"
I would just like to state, for the record, in case anyone out there is considering this form of self-mutiliation/accessorizing, that the actual piercing was not too painful. It was quick and easy, and only minimally traumatic. I mean, it involved a cork for crissake. How scary can it be?
But afterwards, as I wandered through Whole Foods and blood intermittantly ran down my face - just one small drip every so often - the customers in the store were not amused. The Canadian spy who was taking pictures of the display of Annie's bunny-shaped cereal ("You have a lot of products here that we don't have in Canada" he explained) actually walked away when I approached, because I clearly offended his conservative, dignified, non-violent Canadian nature with my bloody nostril.
1 hour ago