This doesn't directly relate to the piercing, but I've very recently gotten (kicked) out of a relationship that meant a lot to me. I have wanted to get a third hole in my lobe for a little while now, and I suppose it was the stagnation that follows a breakup that drove me to finally get it done. I made the walk to Whatever NYC, where I've gotten most of my holes, mostly with my ex. This time I went with a friend who was very tired after a shared night of drug experimentation and drinking. We got a pizza beforehand as I had barely eaten that day, and then into Whatever we went.
At A Glance Author Laura Contact Laura@bme.anon When It just happened Artist Piercing guy Studio Whatever Location NYC The piercer gave me the cost, 25 bucks per ear, and after some wondering out loud about whether not having the cash on me was a sign, I went out and took the money out of an ATM. I wasn't going to chicken out over a supposed omen. The piercer asked skeptically if I was really relying on a sign from God and I realized I'm an atheist. Who exactly would be giving me signs? It's very easy for me to try and chicken out of piercing anything, and it happens almost every time I try. I ignored any reasons for not doing it. I figured this would be a good way to keep my mind off of him; it would be a new little reason to take care of myself. I chose a little loop for the new holes, and got studs for the four existing ones.
When it was time for me to sit on the chair, I started getting nervous for the expectation of pain. I felt very alone. I'm used to having some support during those things, having someone to hold my hand and be next to me. Someone to pump me up and make me do it. The friend that was with me was still somewhat high and was kind of zoning out. Through the glass I mouthed to her, "I'm nervous." She mouthed back, "Don't be," and then looked away sleepily. It made me a little sad that I didn't have anyone else to go with me at the moment. It made me think of the (first) tattoo I was hoping to get this summer, and how my plans are just different now.
During this rumination, the piercing guy got his gloves on. He didn't put an alcohol wipe on my ear like I was kind of expecting, but he's the professional, so I let him do what he does. He put the marker to my ear and after some of my scrupulous adjusting, got them to be where I wanted them to be. My ears are different shapes so when he got to the second ear he was like "Oh, nevermind, this is completely different." That was a little funny.
I sat back down on the chair and he came at me with that piercing thing. I moved away from him, scared of it. He told me that it barely hurt, that it would be over with quickly, and that he would count to three for me. He got close to my ear, and the song "Jackson," by Johnny Cash and June Carter came on. I love that song, and I started singing along... The piercer seemed surprised that I liked the song, and it turns out he made the CD that was playing. I continued singing along, delighted to hear this song randomly, and with his hands around my ear he said "One, two, three." And in it went, just like that.
It wasn't bad at all, and I said so. He said that was good, but that it was bleeding profusely. That really surprised me! But I guess with the amount of alcohol I consumed the night before I shouldn't have been surprised. He said it wasn't very normal for people to bleed during piercings, and I told him about getting the bottom of my navel done there; it bled as well and the piercer said that it was normal for that specific piercing to bleed. The guy said he must have been lying to cover up any concern as to why it was bleeding! That bothered me, and then the piercer said it was okay because the blood would push out any germs that got in. I think that was kind of said to appease me too, but I wasn't very concerned anymore. He pierced the other ear, and that one didn't bleed thankfully. I looked over to my friend, now that it was all over, and she was looking out the window. I looked at myself in the mirror, and the additions looked nice. I looked nice.
I would be lying if I said I left Whatever feeling affirmed and independent. I didn't. My friend took a cab home, and I started the walk home. I ended up having to go back because I couldn't find the ingredients to make my own sea salt solution – whoever said that every "hippie grocery store" has those things may have been right, but I guess the hippie grocery stores around me aren't hippie enough. So far I've been cleaning them about three times a day with PierceMania sea salt spray. They seem healthy enough and I'll be glad when all the wounds heal with time.