Coming back from an extended European trip, I was more nervous the reception my new nose ring would receive than the anticipation of returning to the life I had left behind at home.

Prior to this trip I would never have a considered such an act. It was for young people, it was for the artistic types, whereas I was a sensible person. Besides, how would I begin looking for a job in the corporate world with this little rock glimmering in the groove of my nose?

I arrived in Paris full of excitement at the launching of my great adventure. Everything was in upheaval in my life. For a variety of reasons, I'd lost my home, my job. The responsible thing to do would have been to buckle down and get a new job, find a place to live and certainly buy a car because surviving in Los Angeles without one was like running a marathon with a broken ankle. Instead, I ran away to another continent, wanting to put as much distance as possible between me and "reality."

Paris was my launching point from which to travel to other countries, and I would ultimately return three more times to the "City of Lights" over the course of two months. On my third day in the city I noticed a young woman with a very discreet nose ring, a flat, silver adornment that was not immediately apparent. For the first time it struck me as a very feminine feature. But the young woman herself did not strike me as feminine; she was overweight, badly dressed with a mop of unruly curly hair without a modicum of style. Yet the nose ring gave her a certain something, a je ne sais quoi, a sense of grace.

A month later I was back in Paris, walking past a tattoo and piercing shop when the idea of getting a nose ring first entered my mind. I quickly dismissed it as a very foolish notion but no matter how hard I tried to push it out of my mind the thought lingered on the edges, hanging on to the precipice of my consciousness with tiny tendrils. No amount of reasoning or rejection would quell the idea so I finally bargained with myself: I'd wait a month and if the desire was still there in 30 days I would succumb to it. Satisfied with this contract, the idea finally slipped from my mind and I proceeded on with my travels.

The trip was a cathartic journey of self-discovery, where I found that so much of my identity was entwined with other peoples perception of who I was, or thought I was or how I was supposed to be. Spending large chunks of time by myself eventually took me from being nervous and self-conscious to being peaceful and living in the moment. I enjoyed watching the mass of people pass before me as I sat in a cafi© enjoying a cup of coffee. Every time I looked up from my book, I was faced with a different scene and I felt myself changing, becoming comfortable, bold and adventurous. I eventually developed the courage to strike up conversations with complete strangers. The beauty of them having no point of reference with which to relate to me was seductive. They saw me without the usual background information that people usually have of who, what, where and when and therefore had no preconceived ideas of who I was or who I should be. I tasted true freedom for the first time.

Eventually I met up with people who I knew and my newfound sense of self was put to the test. There were some definitions I could not escape: I was still a cousin, daughter or sister, but outside of that it was a blank slate. Immediately I felt the struggle between them and the new me.

"We'll come get you at the airport."

"No, I'll take the bus," I'd say.

"Do you know which one? Let me give you directions.""

"This is my seventh country in as many weeks, I'm sure I can find my way," I'd reply. On and on and on went these minor exchanges.

Making my way back to Paris, I had four days to prepare my return to my life at home. I was ready to go back. I felt refreshed, rejuvenated and reborn. I had a fantastic tan and lost a little bit of weight. All positive but fleeting things, since the tan would fade and the weight would come back. What then, besides inanimate photographs would be the reminder of my new self?

After checking into my hotel, I decided to take a walk to familiarize myself with the neighborhood. I was in the heart of the wholesale garment and accessories market. It was colorful and vibrant with banners in the windows advertising their famous summer sales. After several hours of meandering through the maze of streets I found myself walking by a tattoo and piercing storefront again. On impulse I walked in.

It was clean, well-lit and the man minding the store spoke English. I had a slew of questions: does it hurt? What is the procedure? Does it hurt? What does it cost? Does it hurt? He patiently answered all my questions without a sneer or a snicker reassuring me that it was safe and painless. He was tattooed and pierced to the hilt, but not once did he make me feel ridiculous for all my questions for a simple nose piercing.

I left that day still not convinced that I would do it. I kept telling myself I was simply curious. The next day I was once again making my way back to my hotel, this time walking through a different maze of streets, when I looked up to check the street name. Lo and behold, I was standing in front of the same shop. Chance? Coincidence? Karma? Was this a sign? I was a fully grown woman, not a rebellious teenager, living in an adult world. A nose piercing simply did not fit into that picture. I didn't want to think about it anymore and I quickly scurried back to my hotel.

Two days later and two days before my flight home, I got ready to meet a friend for dinner. I made my way down the six flights of stairs and into the lobby and after much animated exchange of greetings the words: "I want to get my nose pierced, will you come with me for moral support?" flew out of my mouth. I heard myself saying them and realized that I had made a decision without consciously realizing I had done so. I had finally learned to trust my instincts and off we went to the shop.

During the short 10 minute walk I could feel my adrenaline level rising while I tried to find an ultimate reason to reverse my decision. I heard my voice rising an octave, I began walking a bit faster and speak a little more rapidly.

We finally arrived at the shop and Julien recognized me from a few days before. "I'm here for the nose piercing." I announced it like it was an earth shattering decision. My blood was pumping, I was hot, my t-shirt was sticking to my skin and I could feel rivulets of sweat trickle down my back.

Julien started to prepare the equipment while I panicked. "Let's have a cigarette," he said as I followed him outside. I breathed in the fresh air - as fresh as a hundred degree stifling humid weather could be. We chatted and made jokes. He sensed my nervous state of mind and I'm sure he'd seen it many times before. He never became impatient or belittled the experience, somehow knowing that it was a momentous decision for me. I felt better thinking he somehow understood the reason behind my nervous banter.

We tossed our cigarette butts and stepped back into the shop where he led me to a small room off to the side and held back the curtain to the doorway for me to pass through. There was a small padded table like a flat dentist's chair, and he motioned for me to hop on. He pulled out a black felt marker, dotted my nose, and held up a mirror for me to see.

"That's where I'm going to put the stud, is that ok?" he asked.

"You're the expert," I replied. "Do what you think is best."

He tilted his head, indicating that I lay down on the table. My palms and feet were slick with nervous sweat and I could feel my calves slipping on the vinyl on the table. He leaned over my nose with the needle, getting ready to pierce it when I yelled "Stop!"

He jerked back his hand, looking at me quizzically. "I can't do it," I breathed out, my hands shaking, drenched in sweat. "It's going to hurt," I stuttered and proceeded to tell him the story of how when taking my much younger sister to get her ears pierced, I was also supposed to get a second ear piercing, a fashion statement at the time. Seeing her crying during the process made me lose my nerve, and I left believing it was too pain an experience.

Julien listened to my tale, and at the end simply looked at me with a smile and asked "Ready?" He was not impressed with my story. What could I do but simply nod and lean back on the table. My body tensed as I tried to grab hold of something and stay still at the same time. The needle penetrated my skin and then the muscle of my nose as my tears flowed down the sides of my head. I kept thinking "Thank God I'm not wearing any make-up." The humiliation of crying and looking like a raccoon would have been too much. After a mere 30 seconds which felt like hours, Julien leaned back and handed me the mirror, the deed was done. There it was: a big, glittery nose ring in the middle of my face for all the world to see, forever altering my appearance.

For a split second I was filled with doubt. "What have you done?" screamed my other self into my mind. The feeling was quickly replaced with elation. The thought "I did it!" looping in my brain as my ever widening grin showed my joy. My feeling was contagious and soon even Julien was smiling from ear to ear, happy that I was happy with his work, happy for me and possibly happy that the ordeal was over.

My commotion during the process would have made any drama queen proud. I was so excited I felt like running down the street to show off my new stud, believing everyone on the street would stop in their tracks with amazement at my daring new look. Stepping out of the confining little room into the main store there was another couple there calmly waiting for their turn for a piercing. They had heard our exchange and were unfazed, wondering what all the commotion was about since they were there for something much more daring and painful than a simple nose puncture.

Thinking back on the experience and my reasons for doing it I know that, for me, there is a deep significance in this simple act. I wanted and needed to have a permanent reminder of my life-altering experience. Traveling through Europe alone was the true feat of daring and fear conquering and the nose ring was a symbolic representation of it. It was going be easy to slip back into the rhythms and entanglements of everyday life when I returned home, but the tiny glittering stud would help me remember and reconnect with the true self I had discovered somewhere between Paris, Greece and Poland.