27 Degrees

No, this isn't an all boy pop band. Although, I did just have this conversation with my Sidekick: 

Me: 98 Degrees ... that's insane. I mean, how hot is that.

He: No, you fool. Fahrenheit, not Celsius. 

Me: Oh. Did you just call me a fool?

I live in Canada. So, when I say it was twenty seven degrees, I mean it was in the eighties for you folks down in the United States of America. By the way, the metric system is grand and you all, or y'all, should hop on board, so I don't have to be called a fool anymore. Regardless, I am a bit foolish, and this whole scenario made me laugh. 

That being said, it was hot out today. It's the beginning of May, everything is in bloom, and I seriously regretted wearing tights to work. Thank goodness I had the foresight to leave my pants at home. No pants is always ideal when dealing with summer-like conditions. 

With the sun comes trips to the beach, higher levels of serotonin, skimpy clothes and shots of vitamin D. Depression goes out the window when you're speeding down the highway at 140 (kimometers, not miles), listening to catchy beats, and eating cherries. It is known. Unfortunately, down goes productivity on writing projects and the cleanliness of one's abode. 

Still, summer is around the corner and I live in a beautiful part of the world. And I feel like being happy about that. 

And here I am with another fool. 

My Mom Hates My Piercing

Isn't it funny how some situations never change.

I remember when I got my tongue pierced. My mom hated it.

She told me it was disgusting and asked, "Why would anyone do that to themselves?"  

In all fairness, it was a venom piercing and quite swollen when I showed her. And, from an outsider's point of view, I can see how it might not be the most attractive of all piercings. After all, you can't talk right, due to a swollen tongue, and the barbells are too long. Still, I can't blame the double tongue piercing for her dislike because I distinctly remember her not being keen on my labret either.

And just forget about tattoos. I do believe she said she would cut it out with a knife if I ever got one. Granted, she never did. A clear cut case of no follow through. Still, she's always been fairly vocal about how she feels when it comes to body modifications. What can I say, Mom doesn't sugarcoat things. At least not for me. Because I'm tough, she says. 

But that tongue piercing happened over a decade ago. Surely things have changed since them. After 11 piercings and seven tattoos, she's lightened up a whole heck of a lot. Hell, she's even openly admitted to thinking tattoos are 'cool'. 

And yet, tonight, when I showed her my brand new, only a couple hours old, nose piercing she told me she didn't like it. According to her, it ruins my cute little nose. Evidently, my mom is not now, nor will she ever be a piercing fan.  

When I hung up Skype, I wailed, "My Mom hates my piercing." 

Then I laughed, because I was eighteen years old again, or possibly younger. 

Awesome. 

See, some things never change. I will always be that kid, and that's kind of awesome. Also, I think it's rather wonderful that I have a mother who doesn't feel the need to bite her tongue when it comes to her opinion about my physical appearance. And people wonder where I get it from. 

In other news, my dad liked it.