They know their audience well

I got my first pair of earrings when I was eight. They were silver turtle-shaped studs from Morocco and I have never found a pair like them. Unfortunately, being a Crookston, I was not allowed to pierce my ears until I was 18 and had moved out of the house. My mother's theory was if we were supposed to have holes in our bodies we would have born with them.

A good amount of my childhood energy was spent trying to bend that rule.

I tried everything. I begged, I bargained, I volunteered for extra household chores. But my efforts were in vain. No matter how many different ways I asked, how many siblings joined in on my fight, or even how many prophets came out and said that having one piercing per ear was completely acceptable - my mother would not budge.

I found this lack of opportunity especially disheartening as pierced ears were one of the only "girly" things I truly enjoyed as a youth. I have never been one for dresses, which I blame fully on my childhood which was spent in nothing but lace, frills and over-sized bows. (Picture added for validation purposes.) Going to the mall has always given me a bit of a headache and after too many hours of trying

on clothes I can't help but long for home. High heels, headbands, eyeshadow, lipstick, perfume, and beauty salons all fall under the category of girly things in which I am not particularly interested.
      Though this list falls in no particular order, dances definitely fall at the top of the list. Stake dances, school dances, ward dances, dance parties. No thank you, I think I will pass. I always end up feeling awkward as I was not given the 'dance in a circle' talent. I find it hard to strike up a conversation with someone as I am slow dancing and their face is popping my over-large personal bubble. Whatever the reasons may be, I do not like dances.
      So when the junior prom came around I kinda freaked out a little. The concept of dancing in a dress while wearing heels and trying not to mess up the hair I just paid to have someone do wasn't the most appealing thing to me.

This worried my mother.


And rightfully so I guess. What kind of 16 year old doesn't dream about her prom? Something about my lack of desire to dance until midnight concerned her more than I found necessary, and it wasn't long until she came to me with a deal.

If I stopped telling people I didn't want to go to prom, and then got asked, and then agreed to go, I could get my ears pierced.

This is point in the blog post where I fear that I have not stressed how anti-ear piercing my mother has always been. With the risk of exaggerating I would say that a younger version of me may even put pierced ears as the eighth deadly sin. When I say that my mom telling me that I could get my ears pierced two years before the allotted time, I am saying that the East Germans might as well have stolen Reagan's "Tear Down That Wall" speech.

again, with the risk of exaggeration.


But I agreed without any second thoughts, and this experience now shows me how much my mother really knows who I am. I can think of nothing else that she could have reasonably bribed me with that would have made me willing to go to the prom.

So when my fellow hallmates started trying to convince me to go to preference I was reminded how much they do not know me. On a scale of one to ten my desire to go was hitting a flat two, as I could think of at least one thing worse than going to the dance. I was glad it was ladies choice. This meant that I did not have to worry about being asked, it was all under my control.

But then something went horribly terribly wrong. BYU got inside my head. If I thought my mother had known me well, she has nothing on the BYU activities committee.

There are four different preference dance themes:
Jane Austin
The Great Gatsby
Dr. Seuss
     &
Harry Potter.

Upon first hearing that name which holds such a unique place in my heart I could help but think, just for a moment, that I wanted to go to the dance. Luckily I soon snapped back in to reality and realized that there are many Harry Potter themed parties and it would surely be better to wait for the next one that didn't revolve around dancing.

Right?

One of the best things about being at college was not having to worry about lame dances, right? And it would probably just be a few maroon and gold streamers and nothing to exciting, right? And just because everyone who I talked to was so excited and worked up about the pure awesomeness of BYU preference danes didn't necessarily mean it was going to be good, right?

Right. I was sure I was right.

But then I was at devotional today and Rachel told me that they are having gnome throwing at the dance. What? I need to meet the genius who came up with this and shake their hand. As much as I hated to admit it I was a little curious. If they were clever enough to come up with gnome throwing they must have been clever enough to come up with other noteworthy stuff.

So here I sit, waiting for a pizza covered in a pepperoni question mark and whose box lid says "preference" to be delivered to a boy, and I can't help but wonder how BYU knew exactly how to get inside my head.

...a few hours later...

We can thank James for the pictures!