My piercings. . . complete with photos.

Yesterday a woman commented on the fact that I had two pairs of earrings in. “Two pairs, how edgy”. I smiled, imagining the heel of my palm connecting with the bridge of her nose. I wasn’t sure if she meant I WAS edgy, in which case her idea of edgy must have been culled from Nick at Nite reruns of Happy Days, or if she meant I was a poser. Which pissed me off . . . .'cause I’m awkwardly straddling the fence between responsible adulthood and rebellious youth. And sometimes I do feel like a poser.

Where as I used to run around in corsets and leather pants, with long burgundy hair and pancake makeup, now I look like a modern soccer mom. The problem is that I still have the old me mentality. I like coarse music, crass people and all forms of low class entertainment. I just don’t look the part. Oh yes, you should see me at an Irish Punk concert, “Who brought their mom?”

All that remains, besides my bad attitude is the tiny holes left by my numerous attempts to turn a perfectly good body into swiss cheese. And so, without further ado. . . .

Hole 1: 7 years old. My mom pinched my ears for a week to show me how much it would hurt. The pinches hurt worse than the gun. After the first one she asked if I had felt my ear donut hit my lap. I almost didn’t get the second side pierced.

Hole 2: 13 years old. I finally got this set of holes after my mom repeatedly asked me if I would jump off the cliff if my friends were. (I would have if I could have landed on a piecing gun).

Hole 3: 17 years old. I wasn’t supposed to get anymore, but I was working 30 hours a week and pulling straight A’s. So I did it anyway. Mom scowled but didn’t say much else. Gave me my first cartilage piercing. Note: Never, and I mean NEVER get your cartilage pierced with a gun.

Holes 4-6: 17- 18 years old. Done in rapid succession, one every few months, after I moved into my first apartment. The last few were done with a piercing gun, because by then I had moved on to other body piercings and realized that was the way to go.

Hole 7: Not pictured. Belly Button. Sorry. The love my body thing is still a work in progress, so just imagine a small scar by a cute little button around a toned tummy. That’s not what I have, that’s why it’s called imagining. I got that when I was 18. I had temporarily moved back in with my mom. My girlfriend wanted to get hers re-pierced (she’d had it once before but had to take it out when she got pregnant). That was my first needle piercing and I loved it. Much more erotic, and less painful too. My mom kicked me out when she saw it. I moved in with my girlfriend. That’ll teach her.

Holes 8-10: 20 years old. At this point I had the job that allowed previous piercings but frowned on new ones. So on a three day weekend I decided to get this one and hope I was okay by Monday. The lady pierced me, put the ball on and then realized she couldn’t back the little tongue tongs things off, ‘cause the ball was too big. She dropped the bar through trying to get it the tongs off and ended up having to pierce it again. Of course that time it wouldn’t go through all the way. She’s practically crying, begging me to come back another day.

I’m bleeding. From my tongue.

I insist we get it done. Random hot piercer guy comes in and saves her, stabbing through a third spot and securing the ball correctly. Strangely enough I didn’t have to pay for that piercing. Note: Do not ever, again I cannot emphasis this enough, do not ever drink beer the night you pierce your tongue. Even if you only do it that typical one time the beer will make that puppy swell like virgin in whore house. I took it out when I was 23.

Hole 11: My nipples. Again no pictures. Sorry, it’s not that kind of blog. However for a PG-17 shot you may look here. I was 21. My room mate was dating this random bi-sexual guy who was afraid to pierce his belly button. So we bullied him into my car and off we went. He tried to chicken out when we got to the shop, but the heavily tattooed guys gave him hell. Somehow a deal was made to get his for free if I got my nipples done (also free). The original suggestion was for a lower piercing, but I didn’t want to risk losing sensation, so I opted for the nipples.

There was a crowd. I’m in the photo book at the shop. I mean, you think they look good now, imagine them 10 years younger. I took them out about a year later when I moved back in with my mom. We’re a naked kinda family and you can only imagine what she’d have done if she’d got a glimpse of that. Besides, it looked like I was wearing bull nose pasties. Not hot.

From 23 on, I was a professional, no piercings or pancake makeup allowed. Damn responsibility. Made me lose my edge. That’s fine though. I think I was more of a poser with all that crap anyway. I do miss putting holes in my body, which is odd considering how much needles terrify me. Maybe I’ll try acupuncture, the last refuge of reformed piercers.