I Accidentally Told My Coworkers About My Pierced Nipple

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I never thought I’d be in an office squad, but alas, here I am.

We are, dare I say it, the fun ones. Let me tell you, it isn’t easy to get inducted into our crew, but once you’re in there’s no turning back. No one calls us the Bad Boy Squad, but somebody should definitely start that asap. We actually like each other so much that we text on the weekends, know each other’s lunch preferences, and group message gifs like it’s our job (it’s not actually our job).

That being said, the only thing we have in common with each other is our proclivity for happy hour and decent senses of humor. Aside from that, our lives are drastically different. From age to relationship status, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, and work title, we are a mixed bag. It’s like I always say; never underestimate whisky’s ability to bring even the most unlikely office workers together.

As you can imagine, most of our time is spent shooting the shit. Once a week the group makes me recount in detail what I did that weekend, hoping to live vicariously through my degenerate decisions. The married ones spend their weekends raising toddlers and the single ones maniacally analyzing every date they went on because, who knows, ‘he could be the one!’ – so they tend to get high off my recklessness.

All of our happy hours start innocent and well intentioned; I mean, we are professionals after all. And in our defense, I do genuinely think about 80 percent end that way. Generally, we have a few drinks and then go our separate ways, them to their families or condos, me to another bar or to my parents’ house (yes I still live with my parents).

The other 20 percent of the time, however, we are not always as well behaved. It seems inevitable, considering we couldn’t possibly keep our reputation as the Bad Boy Squad without rolling into the office disastrously hungover every now and again.

I am the newest and youngest member of our crew, so in the beginning I was terrified of getting too drunk at our weekly hangouts. Even though these people are my friends, every single one is more senior than I, something that can be intimidating while downing copious amounts of well liquor.

I used to psych myself up in the bathroom before we’d head out, staring at myself in the mirror saying “only three drinks tonight” over and over again, as if it would somehow sink into my subconscious.

Up until last week I was doing pretty well. Aside from some choice words about my office nemesis (who’s not in the crew) and my weekly regaling of (slightly censored) weekend shenanigans, I hadn’t let anything too incriminating slip. That is until someone brought up piercings.

The conversation went from work related to tattoo related somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd round of shots. We were discussing tattoo culture and how, even in our buttoned up business, tattoos are no longer taboo.

“Ahh, but what about piercings?” one of my particularly rowdy squad members said.

He was referring, of course, to nose piercings or eyebrow piercings. Inquiring whether or not it is unprofessional to have bling on your face in a corporate environment.

“Ya, I mean. Imagine if Victoria walked into the office with her nose pierced. Jen, (fake name I’m using for my boss) would lose her shit.”

The group laughed. I laughed. In fact, we all laughed! And you know what, I certainly could have left it at that.

Instead, in that moment, I said with such clarity and confidence you would have thought I was talking to my closest girlfriends.

“Ha Ha. Sometimes I’m worried she can see my nipple piercing through my shirt.”

[Insert longest, most pregnant pause you have ever encountered]

Yes. That’s right internet. I actually announced, to a group of coworkers, that I have my nipple pierced.

Let me set this straight. I do not work in a loosey-goosey office environment like that of a start-up or weed dispensary, where I’m sure body-piercing talk is fair game. Additionally, I was certainly not sitting around with a group of other first year associates. These people are the bad boys of upper management, and I, drunk on tequila, told them I pierced my nipple.

The minute the last syllable of that blasphemous sentence left my lips I froze, my stomach dropped into my butt, and my face lit up like a siren.

What was I supposed to do? Apologize? Cry? Submit my letter of resignation?

Granted, even in a highly inebriated state, I was under no impression that this horrific announcement could negatively impact my professional career. They are my own nipples after all, and I can do with them what I please.

That being said, I was mortified. I had just announced to a group of senior-level individuals that I have my nipple pierced. Something, I am sure, they did not expect from little old me.

My heart raced as I anticipated the potential fall out. Something bad had to come of my drunk proclamation, if not just complete shame coupled with my colleagues’ inability to look me in the eye ever again.

When I could finally looked up from my drink, I made that squished, “oh my god I can’t believe I said that” face and squealed, “Just kidding…”

Obviously, everyone knew I was not kidding. The silence was malleable.

Then, by the grace of god, someone started laughing.

It was a slow, confused chuckle that turned into a guttural laugh so infectious, our entire table was in stitches before I knew it.

My female colleague put her hand on my shoulder and whispered, loud enough for the entire bar to hear, “Your nipple secret is safe with us,” before she peeled into a second set of giggles.

When everyone finally caught their breath we cheersed as someone yelled, “Another round, barkeep!” (Okay, they didn’t actually say barkeep, but we did get another round).

On my way home I replayed the incident over and over and over. Then, of course, I recounted it to my uber driver in detail.

What would it be like in the morning? Would they tell everyone by the time our noon meeting commenced? Was I about to be the subject of Skype messenger jokes for weeks? Would anyone take me seriously ever again?

Truth is, I’ll never know. I can’t take back what I said, and frankly, I don’t want to.

Alright. That’s a lie. I would 100 percent take it back if I could. But now that it’s out there, I have thrown up my hands and relinquished control.

So what? I have my nipple pierced. This is 2017 and as far as I know, it hasn’t yet impacted my performance. (Work performance, I mean).

I get that my industry is incredibly formal, one where we generally don’t talk about our feelings or dreams, much less under-the-blouse piercings. But, you know what? It’s a new dawn.

I am a millennial in the workplace, a demographic that already confuses the hell out of people anyway. If this is one more thing to add to my “not your traditional hire” reputation, so be it.

My colleagues know I have my nipple pierced. I have nothing left to hide. I am free.

#freethenipple.

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CallMeVictoria

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