My First Piercing Went a Little Like This

Growing up, I never saw the point in piercings; “why would I want to put a slice of metal through my skin? I’d have to clean it and it would be uncomfortable” was always my first response when people asked me why I never fancied having my ears pierced. Many people of my generation will probably remember the getting your ears pierced in Claires Accessories phase; almost every time I went in there between the age of eight and fourteen, there was yet another punter ready on the chair, anxiously bracing themselves for stinging earlobes.
But it wasn’t until recently, at the age of eighteen that I decided I actually quite like the idea of having a piercing, and that, despite my previous distain of jewellery that leaves a permanent scar I would get a septum piercing and have a horseshoe ring, with balls either side. I think it must be an experimentation phase; to try new looks and see what suits before I grow old and wrinkly and seem like a confused old lady.
So last weekend, I grabbed one of my closest friends who is well acquainted with piercing and tattoo parlours and we went to a place about eight miles from my place. My friend didn’t recommend this place, but I figured that all places these days are safe and clean so what could possibly go wrong?
I apprehensively walked into the near-empty parlour that I had driven past just a week before and commented that it looked like “a right dive”. However, the place was clean, and had plenty to look at in terms of artwork. I walked up to the counter and asked the stubbly old bloke with long hair if I could get my septum pierced this morning.
“Sure, let me just finish this piece quickly and I’ll get you a form.” The guy was doing some tattoo drawing of a star and a rose on some paper, and I guessed it would take another couple of minutes to do the shading, so I waited patiently on the leather sofa. I waited, and waited, and waited some more. It must have been about fifteen minutes before some other guy came out from the back room and thrust some paper in my face. Jesus, I thought, you think he could have just put down his pencil for a second to get me a form!
Anyway, let’s skip to the fun bit.
When it was finally my turn to get the piercing that was described as “gnarly” by the piercer, I sat up on the couch, and closed my eyes as the fellow with enormous flesh holes and a bald head disinfected my nose with a cotton bud, drew on it with a pink Sharpie (what for?!) and then proceeded to show me that all his tools were sterile and packaged. He faffed around for ages, I don’t even know what he was doing! Finally, He clipped the tongs onto my septum, I close my eyes once again, and the four inch needle was forced into my flesh.
“I’m not crying okay, this is an involuntary reaction!” I said as my eyes watered profusely and ran down my face. Phew! The hard bit is over I thought; how wrong I was.
He then slowly pushed the ring through which hurt even more but when he screwed the ball on, the pain ebbed away as I eagerly awaited to see the end result. I stood up and walked over to the mirror.
WHAT THE *expletive*
The ring hung totally wrong out of my nose. For one thing, he’d done it far too low down, and it was also wonky so he’s obviously put the needle in at an angle.
“I’m no expert mate, but even I can see that this is wrong.” I gave him the worried look, combined with the disappointed mum expression, and he took it out and didn’t charge me.
I walked away with a stinging nose and nothing to show for the pain. I was kind of angry but appreciate things don’t always go right, so I’ll give it a go another time.
However, I later found out from a legitimate source the guy that did my piercing is an apprentice, and he’d never pierced a septum before. EXCELLENT! Thanks a lot you guys. I wasn’t going to name-and-shame you, but because you let someone so inexperienced near my precious “button nose” as he later described it, I’m going to tell the entire internet not to go to Sacred Gallows in Hailsham. The End.
Written: March 2013


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I like to write, I have no preferred style or format of writing but I usually enjoy recounting a funny story or describing my surroundings. I enjoy heated debates about society and ideologies, I have an appreciation of the great outdoors, I relish in the company of others, I'm very much a morning person, I love practising Te Waza in Judo, and I hope one day to build my own dwelling (I won't say house as that sounds terribly proper).

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