Stage 3: Needle Fear Be Damned

I will begin this (much belated chapter) with a mission statement of sorts: friends, I live an //alternative lifestyle.

Were you aware? ///// BECAUSE I DO.

When I reflect on my brief existence in this world, I realize: it has always been this way. Even during the bleak middle school days of turquoise eye shadow and abercrombie tube tops, I have never been able to escape my ultimate fate of being a weird ass broad.

// Do you think it has something to do with the eyebrows?????????

In some ways, the //alternative way of life was the only viable option for me.

Some context for more recent acquaintances: I grew up in a very very WASP-filled, Jesus-loving, straight-laced ‘burb--a world of extreme & deeply self-congratulatory ---normativity----. Indeed there have been multiple movies / TV shows / books chronicling my particular suburb’s status as the quintessential white-picket-fence suburban archetype. 

I was a bad fit for this culture, shall we say. And, in my defense, the culture was quite extreme.

Example #1: the stereotypically popular kid in my class was essentially a cardboard cut-out of America the White & Hetero & Beautiful.

Let us henceforth refer to him as “Bill.”

Bill is ~naturally~ a blonde, blue-eyed WASP boy wonder and he is A++ at it to boot--the brother has sported Lily-Pulitzer-brand menswear since the day he exited the womb. 

But, Lily Pulitzer... isn't that a bit emasculating, you say? Not when you're a third generation bajillionaire, y'all peasants. That's right: Bill descends from a line of other Bills that includes Bill Jr (II) and Bill Sr (I); who are also--SURPRISE--blonde/blue-eyed/straight/white rich.  

To commemorate this cherieshed lineage of all loving Vineyard Vines and also golfing & yachting, these Bills I-III + their WASP spawn posse all get together for a family photo every year. This photo is then printed on a Christmas card and distributed to all other families of my suburb, so as to point out who the OG straight/white/blonde/rich family is. 

Hint: it’s Bill I-III and spawn, y’all!!!

In contrast with Bill I-III: the colors pink/green against my olive skin straight up make me look #ill. I do not have a large cavalcade of blonde family members nor do my non-blonde family members ever desire to pose for Xmas cards with me. I am not even 1% Anglo-Saxon nor Prostestant. & Definitely no one in my bloodline ever owned a castle in Saxony… though, as serfs to Polish nobility, they may have been contracted to dig someone’s moat at some point. You know how it is.

SO. to summarize: whether it was nature or nurture or my #FUN Ukrainian heritage - your girl was very aggressively not up to par with the lifestyles of the rich and Bill-esque lax bros that surrounded me in my youth.

I was therefore forced into the //alternative way of livin’ early on. Or maybe it chose me.

Of course: Being forced to the margin in the 'burbs meant that I decisively / thankfully pushed myself to move upward and onward after high school--moving on up to a number of urban centers where my //alternative leanings could soar!

Walking along these NY streets -- you encounter a celebration of this //alternative lifestyle existence all day errday: unflattering neck tattoos! Surprisingly-flattering whiteman dreadlocks! Rainbow-colored undercuts! Defiant fashion man skirts! It’s eeeverywhere.

Yes. <3 <3 I found my people in the end, y’all <3 <3. 

When I began this life-makeover, my alternative-lifestyle leanings (of course) colored many of my choices. 

But I had this daunting feeling weighing down my days: was my brand of balayage-hair-sporting spooky park rangerin’ style 2.0 … enough?

See, all the previous life-makeover changes were temporary and easily reversible. Technically I still had more in common with Bill I-III & his lovely cohort of Jack Johnson enthusiasts than I did with my own //alternative people.

I mean: Put me in a Lactose polo, Jack Rogers, and pearls and -- voila -- I could blend in to that Bill I-III family photo no problem. /// ... You know, as their swarthy strong-eye-browed adopted daughter from rural Albania ... .////.

In some ways this is good, I know I know. #Werking in the #corporateworld, one has to blend in and shill products without scaring the unassuming public via one’s ~uNiQue individual look~, it’s true.

But a large part of me felt like a phony. Here I was -- spiritually high-fiving each and every mohawk-sporting unicyclist of south Brooklyn -- and yet I myself was, for all intents and purposes, just another basic ass bitch in a crop top. Dang.

This shit-everyone-thinks-I’m-normal-how-did-this-happen?!?!? crisis was undoubtedly exacerbated by my corporate reality. 'Cuz one unfortunate truth of being a young female in an office is that everyone automatically assumes that as an early 20s female that smiles I am automatically:

1. “such a sweetheart”
2. 100% invested in looking for my future husband / affiliated diamond ring options
3. really into SoulCycle; salads; “The Bachelor” franchise

The five billionth time I heard some exec. call me "such a sweetheart" after I analyzed some excel spreadsheets for him, I grimaced and finally, finally, finally accepted my truth--friends, there was only one way out of this vortex. 

The time had come: I needed to dip my toe into the realm of body modification.

For me, body modification was a true next-level commitment -- above and beyond ~balayage~. Face it: if you hate your hair, you can cut it off or wait for it to grow. If you hate your tramp stamp, you can.... burn it off and spend $$$ doing so.

Outside of commitment-phobia, I also had another big problem ……….. 

........ I am very very very afraid of needles!!!!!

A vast majority of alternative-lifestyle signifiers involve processes that are often very painful; usually requiring needles. In fact, I’m sure many an alternative-lifestyle follower would argue that it is the very physical pain involved in getting that giant ICP back tattoo that brings the work such symbolic power. No pain; no //alternative lifestyle cred gain.

But my needle fear is REAL, mmkay? I mean: family lore states that wee toddler Liza--normally "such a sweetheart" and into teddy bears / baby kittens / etc-- used to attack nurses who would try to give her shots. The OG anti-vaxer, I had to be forcibly strapped to a gurney by multiple nurses in order to receive state-mandated inoculations. I would often bite them when they strapped me in. Do you hear me, public? I WOULD BITE THEM.

I no longer attempt to physically attack healthcare providers, but I do still tremble at the sight of all needles. I'm a #wimp y'all. Therefore, I must admit that I felt extreme angst at the thought of getting a piercing / tattoo / body ~mod~ procedure.

And yet the permanence of the needle-involving gesture felt like an important marked moment of adulthood: overcoming a lifelong fear! Adopting a look not commonly embraced by the masses of people around me! Feelin truly ~alternative~ for the first time!!!!!

Choosing my route to success was easy. I had always wanted a nose piercing. I think they look ~cool~ and also involve merely one needle-induced trauma versus many hours of needle-trauma coloring involved in receiving a tattoo.

I gotta own my needle-phobic truth, after all...

Plus, top secret intelligence your mom in Ohio does not want you to know -- the nose piercing is arguably the safest type of piercing one can get. Seriously: the cartilage in your nose is more stable, resilient and generally accepting of modification than any other portion of your bod--including your ears. That’s why people can literally have their nose broken, shaved, and then realigned with relatively few problems, or as they refer to it in the 21st century Western world “a nose job.” Ear cartilage, in contrast, actually is quite weak and, when infected can completely drain away -- leaving you with no ears. I wish I was kidding.

With my psuedo-science backing up my pseudo-courage, I walked into a South Slope pierce joint and had a very large & amply pierced gentlemen complete the deed; giggling at my nervousness as I spent the first 15 mins of our session hyperventilating in a corner.

I was scurrrred, folks.

... BUT I GOT THROUGH IT.

Immediately upon exiting the piercing boutique, I knew I had achieved the minimally-invasive //alternative signifier I ever so yearned for. 

I can’t really explain this in any rational terms, but something about even super basic body modification makes one feel every-so-slightly rambunctious. And, as a strong Ukrainian woman & general raconteur, we all know I get off on that shit. #Imean

To pile on to my superficial alternative gratification: just 1 week into overcoming my needle phobia, I achieved the world’s greatest acknowledgement of my new //alternative lifestyle// personal brand. 

This lifestyle-affirming scene transpired at a work happy hour. There, a corporate executive (read: boss’ boss’ boss) that is very straight-laced / enjoys "classic" David Yurman jewelry walked straight up to me and began a seemingly-never-ending monologue. 

Reader's digest: for some reason, she was very effected by my nose piercing, and just needed to talk it out -- at me. #Execs these days.

The monologue went something like this:

“LIZA. Your nose! I noticed you got it pierced. I mean, wow. What a change. It looks… good. I mean, for a piercing, it's good. They can be SO tacky you know? But looking at yours, you know -- I must say, it is very refined and understated. For a nose piercing, I mean, it’s classy… for a nose piercing...” 

Reminder: This person lives full time in Connecticut.

& she continued: “Sometimes these piercings, you know -- can be not so classy or professional. I mean, my sister has her eyebrow and tongue pierced and if you could see it… (nervous laughter) NOT CLASSY. Your piercing is SOOO much more appropriate. I can’t imagine coming into the office looking like MY SISTER. I mean, she really has made some less than professional choices with her looks...”

Reminder: This person also wears mostly clothes from Tory Burch.

&& again she continued: “Did you know my sister -- one time we were walking through a mall in Wyoming, and the people in the mall were all pointing at my sister and laughing because they had NEVER SEEN someone with a piercing or tattoo and they were just SHOCKED TO SEE IT. And I mean, I’m from a big city so I’m not shocked by it, but I could see where they were coming from. I mean, her piercings are not as understated as yours so they make more of an impression on rural people, you know. Because piercings can be SHOCKING and really distasteful.”

Reminder: This person also (x2) has multiple vacation homes in places such as Nantucket.

&&& finally she concluded: “ANYWAY, I really like your nose piercing.... Do you want another drink?”

And it was at this sweet, sweet moment of encounter that I realized: dayummm grrl, my nose piercing has indeed shifted my personal brand one small but notable peg away from Bill I-III. FINALLY--//Alternative lifestyle's golden gates have been opened. 

And through those gates, the greatest small glory of all: I have officially achieved a look that induces mild anxiety in your everyday corporate executive.

//// THIS IS ALL I COULD EVER DREAM OF.

And so I declare: needle fear, be damned.