In my area of England, piercing studios are either lacking in proper hygiene facilities or have a strict 'No under 16s without an adult' policy. This proves difficult for me when wanting piercings, as I am only 15, and my parents like to use "You can wait until you're eighteen!" as an excuse to deny me a piercing. However, because of these circumstances, whenever I *am* allowed piercings, they always prove exciting and memorable experiences.
At A Glance Author Ruth Contact Ruth@bme.anon IAM HauntedDesire When A year ago Artist Sue Studio Gypsy Nirvana Location Kingston Flash back to roughly two months ago – October half term. No school for a week, and the perfect time to persuade my mum to let me get the daith piercing I had been practically lusting after for a good few months. At this point I'd only been into body modifications for about two years, my navel piercing starting the fascination. The piercings which followed this could be considered 'mediocre' in comparison to other mods displayed on this site: four more 16g lobes, my original lobes stretched to a 0g over a four month period, and a 16g rook piercing. A friend of mine working for an ambulance service lent me several 18g sterilised needles, and I experimented with a few extra lobe piercings – none of which I kept – and some minor cutting. This daith was to be my new favourite piercing.
The days leading up to the piercing were rather dull. From my un-modified friends I received the non-responsive, unbothered attitudes I was expecting when announcing my next modification plans, and a few people queried why I wasn't getting a tragus – "Like everybody else", commenting on how "weird" the daith sounded. I smiled and politely informed them that I don't pierce my skin to follow a fashion – I do it because I like the experience, and this particular piercing is one I have wanted for a long while. Despite this, their comments remained in my mind, even when I entered Gypsy Nirvana that Saturday.
My navel piercing taught me a lot of things about the piercing procedure, the before and the after. Having had to walk over a mile back to Kingston centre (Gypsy Nirvana is quite a fair walk from the main High Street) to get a decent meal before the piercing (I discovered a Snickers and a Lucozade aren't *actually* a proper meal), I made sure to have a lunch-sized breakfast in the nearest café before setting foot inside the studio.
Walking up to the counter inside the tiny, incense-scented shop, I bluntly stated to Sue – the woman who would be doing my piercing – "I want to get a piercing." Feeling rather stupid and blushing slightly, I let out a faint laugh and she politely asked what I would like to have pierced. "Something on my ear..." Suddenly the comments had got to me – should I have the daith or a tragus? Handing me a piercing form, she told me to sit down and think about it and give back the form once I had decided.
I filled in the name, address, age, and allergies sections of the form, my mum filling in the 'Parental Consent' section. Leaving out the crucial 'Piercing you would like' part, I was forced to ask Sue her opinions on the two piercings and which she thought I would be better having done. Inspecting my ears she said I was anatomically suited to both, and it was really up to me; she did not want to decide for me. The one thing she did say that ultimately swayed my decision was that the daith usually hurts slightly more than the tragus due to its lengthy piercing process and it being in a more awkward position. Upon saying this I decided upon the daith, realising that the only reason I was hesitating was because of the pain factor (which I have discovered is always exaggerated for me the moments before a piercing – my pain tolerance is quite high). Scribbling 'diath' – their spelling and pronunciation of the piercing – on the form, I walked around the back of the front desk to the piercing part of the studio, my heart racing a thousand beats a minute and my head screaming "It's gonna really hurt!"
"Left or right?" Sue queried. "Huh?" My head hurt. The food rotting in my stomach was the only reason I had not yet fainted; my face a clammy mess. "Left or right. Ear." "Oh... right, please." The ear not already hosting a shiny rook would soon be violated, and my stomach knew it. Suddenly I was sitting on a dentist's chair, old and creaky – a great contrast to the rest of the room which was a white and clean-smelling haven. My ear was cleaned with a small cleaning wipe and everything was layed out on a small trolley: the packaged needle; the small, 16g curved barbell; several tissues and a spare pair of rubber gloves. Positioning my head, she removed the needle from its packaging and I shut my eyes so all I could see was the coloured blurs on the darkness of my eyelids.
The next few seconds remain in my mind, still vivid and sharp. The needle was slowly pushed through my ear, a dull pain at first, and then an excruciatingly sharp pain, followed, once again, by a dull pain – much like pushing down on a bruise. This sequence repeated three times until Sue stepped away to change her gloves and pick up the jewellery. My eyes still shut, she removed the needle and I prayed, hoping we were almost done. I wasn't in pain, but I knew that – soon enough – I would be feeling the full force of the piercing procedure.
Up until this point, I never understood why so many of the pierced community hate the ten or so seconds when the ball is being inserted into their fresh piercing. Considering the 2mm diameter of the ball for my barbell, I wasn't at all surprised when Sue struggled to get it onto the thread of the jewellery; being forced to hunt for a pair of forceps. My eyes went blank. Black spots were forming in my head, my breakfast slowly beginning to rise from the pit of acid.
"Uhm... I don't feel too good." Almost immediately the chair was horizontal and I was lying back with a fan blowing in my face. "Would you like some water?" "Please." Within thirty seconds I was fine, the ball was in my jewellery after Sue fitted it with me still horizontal, and I was able to leave.
On leaving the piercing area of the studio, I was given an aftercare lecture (always useful to the slightly inexperienced such as myself) and was told that – as well as the three daily saline solution cleaning sessions – I should also use half a cap of diluted TCP every other day. This I found slightly ironic considering the note on the 'Aftercare' side of the pricing list, which stated: "Do not use TCP or Savlon on any healing piercings."
I smiled, said "thank-you", and paid the £30. Walking away my ear was bright red and I could feel the new piercing with every step I took, pounding politely in my ear. That night I found sleeping painless, which I was very surprised at considering the four months of awkward nights when attempting to sleep on my fresh rook piercing. Cleaning was easy, but the piercing was positioned rather neatly in my ear and is impossible to see without several mirrors or a camera. Nevertheless, I managed to clean it as religiously as Sue had asked, and to this day it remains painless and crust-free.
For the first time I understood why people advise that you don't worry about the pain when considering and getting piercings because, in reality, that is only 0.001% of the piercing experience. I know this is just another average story of an average piercing, but for me it was a great experience, and I wanted to share it to add to people's knowledge of the ear piercing experience and – if possible – help others.