The Start of the Second Fifty

I sat at a sidewalk cafe in the East Village, with my back to the sun facing my oldest daughter, Mona. We had just walked around Soho, passing Russell Simmons on his bike and store fronts I promised we would some day have the time to explore. The weather was perfect. My daughter was studying at FIT and taking extra courses at NYU. I was due on a plane that night for Argentina. We had just decided that after coffee, we would walk up the street and get a manicure together. Life, at this moment, was particularly good. Then I noticed a glint.

"Did you pierce your tongue? Twice?"

"Oh, yeah. It's called the viper. It's not like one of those big piercings up front. These are small and way back and they'll close up instantly as soon as I'm done with this phase," she said, her voice barely audible by the time she got to "phase."

"I guess it's good for sex," I said, not coming up with anything appropriate to say. "How's that work for job interviews?" I continued, unable to shut up about it and recognizing that she wouldn't be looking for a job for a few years if my keep her in school until she started to pick up the Times on a daily basis, out of habit, plan worked out.

The first free second I had, I texted my second daughter, Lex, "She pierced her tongue! Twice! She pierced her tongue, ew!" "Go easy. I like her. She's exploring." Lex texted back.

But I wasn't characteristically furious over the violation of my No Mutilation (a/k/a Body Art) Until You're at Least 25 rule. I found it kind of funny.

Funny? What was happening to me?

And then my husband and I discussed the prospect of Viper clip ons.