First, let's get this disclaimer out of the way. No one and I mean NO ONE should treat their piercings as I have written here as I am sometimes less than sane, and the things I do are sometimes more than stupid. I am not to be emulated or imitated–copied or mimicked. I set a very bad example in so many facets of my life–why would this be any different. I write this only because it's true and mine and I feel the need to write something.
At A Glance Author pigkillin'_headhunter Contact syck_dryfter@yahoo.com IAM pigkillin'_headhunter When Five years ago Artist nomad Studio touch of magic Location warner robins georgia In the first half of 1999 I was making a second attempt at a graduate degree program (having dropped out of a Master of Arts of Teaching program). It occurred to me that for the first time since I knew I would be entering the teaching program there was no job or impending job around the corner to keep me from getting some holes in my face.
I went to my local headshop which is where a newly found friend and body piercer, Nomad, worked. He had previously done my right nipple and a couple of dydoes. But one day halfway through what would be my last semester of grad school I had him pierce my septum and my bridge. It's the bridge I want to write about now.
He put the dots in perfect placement–right where I wanted them . . . and level too. The needle entered and exited right on mark. Besides from there being a total lack of pain and a complete absence of blood, the bridge was a complete success.
Everything went great for the first several weeks. I washed with sterile saline and left it alone the rest of the time. The trouble came when I dropped out of grad school a second time and found myself searching for some source of employment. Where I live–Middle Georgia–being openly pierced can make the job hunt as difficult as staying away from drugs in a trailer park.
Nevertheless, I was unwilling to give the piercing up. I'm not sure why, but I put my foot down and thought to myself in true Melvillean Bartleby's adamant yet subtle style: "I'd prefer not to" take the piercing out. I set out on an uncompromising collision course with employers and ultimately–the health of my piercing itself.
The first step I took was to take my jewelry out during interviews and slide them back in once I left the office–often right there in the parking lot. That only left protecting the hole from closing during my actual shifts. Some jobs were eight hours–some were longer. I say some because I've never been known to hold a job for any length of time–I'm just not reliable enough–what with my mood swings and all.
The best way I found to hid my bridge piercing was to put in a piece of jewelry that was just a bit too short for the hole, leaving the openings to close up some every day I worked. That meant every night I would come back home, take a shower, and begin the irritating process of forcing the blunt jewelry back through one closed up opening of the piercing from the inside and then sliding my after work jewelry through the piercing until it popped out of the other closed up opening.
Sometimes there was blood. Sometimes it hurt like hell. Every time I cursed the fact employers care so much about their workers maintaining culturally "normal" appearances. During my more manic periods, I loved this pain and blood–this throbbing third eye that made everyone ask "Did that hurt?"
After a while I began to notice that it was migrating on the left side–slipping away from its nice deep setting and moving outwards. I knew right away that eventually I was probably going to have to let it go. Still, I would not relinquish it yet. I hoped that after I stopped having to take it out and use ninja stealth tactics it would only have moved a little, allowing me to tolerate its new slightly flawed position. Nevertheless, even after I stopped needing to find some kind of work the piercing migrated more.
I didn't get rid of the piercing until late 2002. I watched it migrate further out on the left side month by month–refusing to give it up. Now, I still have scars where it used to be. On the right side is the simple dot like scar of its exit hole. The left side, however, looks more like a small tear shape. They are plainly noticeable, though not from a distance.
I know I'll get my bridge repierced when the scar tissue has subsided some more–softened up a little bit. I'd like to get it pierced more than once–maybe three times. I just hope that my left side's increased scar tissue (which is due entirely to my stubbornness) doesn't cause me any further problems when I go to get my future bridges.