“No, absolutely not! Not while you are living under my roof” were the first thoughts that exploded out of nowhere into my mind. Somehow I was able to suppress any verbal output that would have taken my son and I into a power play of who’s right, who’s got the upper hand here, etc, etc. “I’m 16 and legally I can do this if I want to!” I was informed. OK Mary, you need to deep breath I coached myself. I suddenly realized that this was about more than the physical act of sticking a steel stud into my son’s virgin skin. I wasn’t sure what though. Finally I was able to muster the words, “I’m curious and want to know more. Let’s talk about this later.”
I needed distance from my first reaction, needed more information, and needed to talk to my friends who had already weathered this teen right of passage. My first impulse was to control, then I just wanted to escape. Beam me up Scottie. Why did my beautiful, sensitive son want to staple a steel stud into his lower lip? I’d already accepted his long hair and baggy clothes and thought this would characterize his teen years. Silly me, I thought I was out of the woods. I should have known better. I just get comfortable with one developmental stage and get hit square in the face with chaos as new growth asserts itself.
Two days later my son, husband and I were facing each other anticipating our discussion. I prefessed our talk addressing my son’s worries that we had not gathered to be the heavies. He had not done anything wrong; we weren’t here to critize him. I stayed curious and began an innocent inquiry. “So, we wanted to learn more about the lip piercing that you’re thinking about getting.” I inquired. “Who would do this for you? How would you take care of it? How would you pay for it? What if it got infected? What would it feel like?” Each question was answered maturely, without defensiveness. We took our time and allowed some silence and thoughtfulness to spark the next inquiry.
I was actually getting into the “feel” of having one of these studs myself as my tongue slid across the inside of my bottom lip. “How would it feel in your mouth?” I could see my son’s tongue also investigating his soft tissue. Thoughtlytfully he remarked, “well you know, I’m just thinking about this.” End of conversation.
On reflection I learned with enough information I could actually entertain the idea as a possibility rather than a reactionary “NO” that shut down communication. One of my friends talked about these piercing as rights of passage for boys in a culture where there are few. Another mentioned that these piercing where similar to getting our ears pierced (this is really going to date me!)
The best thing that came out of this is that our son felt respected while continuing to march toward individuation and autonomy. His choice might not be one that I would make, but this is his life, not mine. My job is to keep him safe, foster a loving relationship, and respect him as he zigzags toward adulthood.
Who knows what decision he will make in the future. I hope that whatever decision that is, he’ll feel free to share his thoughts as he processes his way through it.
