On my 18th birthday, I made a decision that seemed rebellious at the time: I got my first tattoo. After swapping my driver’s permit for a state ID at the DMV, I found myself in a small tattoo parlor nestled between a Chinese takeout and a Dunkin’ Donuts. I wish I could say there was some profound motivation behind this choice, but the truth is, I simply wanted something my mom didn’t approve of. Classic, right?
With barely a few minutes spent browsing through flash designs—those pre-drawn images that could include anything from cherries to skulls—I made my choice when a burly tattoo artist approached me. I pointed to a black cross intertwined with a yellow rose, despite the fact that I wasn’t religious and planned to place it in a location that would only be visible in my underwear or swimsuit. Fast forward through years of body modifications, and here I am, with 14 piercings and a plethora of tattoos that blend together as my own personal art gallery.
But despite my love for body art, I have absolutely no intention of piercing my daughter’s ears. Yes, the mom with the vibrant hair and multiple body modifications is choosing not to jump on the ear-piercing bandwagon for her toddler.
Before my daughter could even sit up, family members were already asking when I planned to pierce her ears. “But you have so many piercings and tattoos!” they exclaimed, as if that qualified me to make the same choices for my child. When they inquired about my stance on tattoos and hair color, I could have easily snapped back that it was none of their business or joked about giving her an Elmo tattoo for her third birthday. Instead, I calmly explained that ear piercing wasn’t on my agenda and was not something I intended to do.
What seems like a straightforward decision to them is exactly why I choose not to pierce her ears. My daughter deserves to make her own choices about her body, and those decisions should correlate with her age, maturity, and ability to articulate what she wants—not be influenced by her mother’s preferences.
Some may argue that it’s just her ears. I remember my own ears getting pierced in my mother’s kitchen with a sewing needle, ice, and a thread—definitely not the safest method. However, it’s not just about the ears; it’s about consent. All my body modifications were my decisions, and while I may have made some questionable choices, they were mine to make.
If my daughter approaches me in a few years—let’s say at age 6, 8, or even 10—expressing a desire to have her ears pierced, I’ll make sure she’s well-informed and then happily take her to a certified professional piercer. But I refuse to impose any body modifications on her for my own reasons. Piercing her ears wouldn’t serve any cultural significance for us, nor is it medically necessary, and I certainly won’t do it to spare her from a momentary sting that’s no worse than a bee bite.
So while those tiny diamond studs may look cute, they won’t bring her joy right now. Instead, I’ll save that happiness for the things that truly matter to her—like Cheerios, Mickey Mouse, and, of course, Elmo.
For more insights into family planning and parenting, check out our blog posts on the home insemination kit and the importance of understanding third-party reproduction here. If you’re looking for information about the IVF process, this resource is excellent as well.
In summary, I believe in allowing my daughter to make her own decisions about her body, including whether or not to pierce her ears, and I will support her in that choice when she is ready.