Holes in my Face

An admittedly obsessed people watcher, I see all the things, little and major, in which people do. Their interactions. Their acts of kindness, spite, aggression, etc. My piercings, though certainly not as excessive as some, have proved to be my own sort of social experiment. I catch looks in walking past, their eyes linger upon the metal strung through my face. I catch a mother, a professor, a student, in the act and they guiltily look away. Shame is not what follows, but amusement. In a society where it is so aggressively pushed that judgment is not to be passed, I find humor in said lie. I watch as their eyes lock in mine when conversing, and then inadvertently falling upon each metal protuberance.
"When I first saw you, I definitely thought you would be...different"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know," she said, pausing uncomfortably, "just, different."