We are wolves. Wolves with earrings.

Lesson of the moment; You’re never too old. Personal expression is powerful magic. 

Daughter number 1 (I have two, they are twins, she was born first, they have an inside joke about it… I say this because I’ve been dragged over the coals by keyboard warriors before for ‘applying a number to my children,’ – politically correctness gone mad if you ask me – but don’t get me started down that rabbit hole.) 

Anyway, Daughter number 1 and I went and got our ears pierced today. Daughter number 2 came with us.  

She did not get her ears pierced. She thinks we’re daft.  

I’m in my forties, my girlies are 14, and D1 has wanted her ears pierced for a second time for ages. She was scrolling me though her pinterest fashion board showing me what she likes, and what she wants her ‘style’ to be…

I had no concept at 14 that I could chose how my look was going to evolve, and as I sat there listening to her tell me how she was going to start with heeled ankle boots to get her balance right, as she loves how heels look with a pencil skirt… I was at a loss for words at my human. And as she scrolled down her pins to a stud paired with a huggy (didn’t know what that was until she showed me,) I said that at the beginning of the summer holidays she should get it done if she wanted. That way she wouldn’t have the hassle of having to tape them up every five minutes at school.

So the pandemic decided it was time to strike and all those plans went out the window, until this week. We were chatting and she brings it up, and I’m like ‘I’d totally forgotten, I’ll book it,’ at which point she says ‘are you going to get a second set? You really liked it too.’ 

I laughed it off, saying that I like it for her, and how much it would suit her, and that it was her choice for herself. I then followed up with ‘and you’re young and fab .’ 

I tell you, now I know how my mum-in-law feels when she tells me she’s too old, and I tell her age means nothing.  

And I’m right; age does mean nothing – I just haven’t applied that sentiment to myself. Well, both daughters were more than happy to drive the point home; boiling the kettle, banging down cups on the side and visciouslly stirring the tea (such young ladies 😉 ) before handing me a cup, saying things like, “I cannot believe you of all people just said that,” “Mum, seriously, age is not a restriction on anything,” “we do things to our bodies, and wear the clothes we like, because we want to! Not what society thinks we should do.” (That’s my girls 🧡 and here’s me thinking they never listened.)

So today off we went, and we both got our ears pierced. D2 came too, she wasn’t missing out on seeing us get skewered apparently.  

And I can tell you this, I felt powerful. Feminine, divine-energy, wild woman running with wolves, powerful. It’s such a small thing. Something no-one else will notice, or care about, but I will.  

At some point over the last Goddess-knows-how-long, I’d sub-consciously made a decision about myself. I’d told myself that certain things, certain choices, weren’t mine anymore. I’d told myself there were now things I couldn’t do, because the media, society, culture, patriarchy – All. The. Damn. Things said women can’t behave in a certain way.  

And some silent part of my brain has taken it in. I spend so much time making sure my girls know they can DO anything, BE anyone, but not me? And here’s the thing, we need to cheerlead for each other.  

We need to ring that bell, and remind each other, so we never forget who we are; we are wolves. Wolves in earrings.