At A Glance Author Mosaic Contact Mosaic@bme.anon When A week ago Studio Beale Street Tattoos and Piercing Location Memphis Although my fiance' and I now live in Alabama, we make monthly or bi-monthly trips back to Memphis, Tennessee, my neck of the woods, to spend some quality time alone and to have some fun on Beale Street. Many memories have been made in our few trips up there. This last trip, a little over a week ago was as memorable as they get.I have always been a piercing afficionado, having pierced my right ear with 7 piercings, my left with only 2, my tongue a little over a year ago and having tried to home-pierce my nipple back when I was only 18 or 19. To me, my piercings are statements of my individuality and are uniquely me. I was into piercings 25 years ago when people in my little town really found you to be a freak if you had more than single earlobe piercings. So be it, I can only be who I am and refuse to apologize for it.
On this last trip to the home of the Delta Blues, and after far too many liquid libations at our favorite bar, Silky O'Sullivan's, we decided to get out and walk Beale for a little while to see what was happening at the other clubs. It was still early and the crowd was still quiet. Besides, I was already feeling the effects of one or two too many of those "Red headed Slut" shooters that my favorite waitress knows I love and that she never fails to bring me, so walking off a little of my inebriation sounded like a good idea. Little did I know where that little walk would take us.
After sauntering around the strip for thirty minutes or so, we found ourselves at Beale Street Tattoos and Piercings. When we got there, the idea was to just look for new tattoo ideas (I have 5 of those, too and am always looking for new ideas since we all know they are addictive). We looked through the flash on the walls, finding a few cute things here and there but nothing that called out to me, but I did find that I was getting more and more unsteady on my feet and my vision wasn't quite what it should have been. The alcohol was really kicking in at this point. As we turned to leave, I saw it. The piercing display.
Without hesitation I knew what I wanted, right then and there, through my booze littered mind...I wanted my nipples pierced and I wanted it done RIGHT NOW! I am aware that I am pretty well polluted but did that deter me? No, it only made my drunken mind tell me that it wouldn't hurt as bad as it would if I were sober. Ah yes, the stupidity of an alcohol intoxicated mind.
I have to be honest here, I don't remember all of what happened over the course of the next 20 minutes. I remember meeting the piercer, a large, towering and handsome light skinned black man who was very nice and seemed glad to explain what would be happening and didn't even mind performing the service on me even after I informed him that I was very drunk. Cool, I thought. I remember taking my shirt and bra off and seeing my fiance' across the room looking at me with his drunken smile as he watched. I recall seeing my piercer take his tools out of their plastic/paper wrapping (so I assume they were sterile but I was honestly too drunk to even think of asking). Then I remember sitting in the piercing chair with him standing over me and gouging the needle through my right nipple but the next thing I know, Mr. Nice wasn't so nice anymore and he was getting very upset with me because I had moved and was making it hard for him to get the ring into the hole.
Well, he was no more upset than I was because the pain of him digging around in the hole in my nipple with the jewelry was more painful than the birth of my children, yet he kept on digging and gouging until, through tears I told him I couldn't take any more of the pain.
After a lecture from Mr. Not-so-nice piercer about how "I" was the one who screwed it up and how it was all my fault for moving at just the right moment (keep in mind, he knew I was drunk and never, that I recall, said a word about staying completely still or offering to have my fiance' hold my hands). By this time, with my right nipple throbbing in intense pain, I was about to chicken out but the big burly man was back over me with a fresh (I assume it was fresh) needle, telling my fiance' to hold my arms above my head and if I was still and we'd have this over with in moments.
Wham-bam-thank-ya-maam, and it truly was over. And in a flash the other nipple was pierced and the jewelry glistening at me from my freshly pierced and achy nipples. I looked in the mirror for a moment and then redressed myself, stopped at the counter to buy some ocean salt for soaks (although that isn't because my piercer told me to, it was because I had sobered up somewhat through the pain and knew I had really better be serious about taking care of these babies.) No aftercare sheet, no words of wisdom on how to take care of the new piercings of mine. But you know what he did say? "You better tip me well after all the hell you put me through with that first one." HUH???
The major lesson learned with this experience is that you should never get pierced while drinking. You won't ask the right questions, you won't have the stable mind to look for all those things that a reputable piercer would have such as sterile workspace and instruments, quality portfolio, etc. And your body shouldn't be put through that kind of trauma while it's full of alcohol and, to top it all off, it will cause you to bleed much more than if you were sober. I knew better but my drunken mind was delusional.
No, I won't be going back to that place to have any new work done but do I like my nips? Yes, I'm loving them and thanks to some good advice from online experts, they are healing nicely. I wash with antibacterial twice a day and do my sea-salt soaks, too. They are mildly sore but no signs of infection which thrills me after how they were done. I'm looking forward to having my jewelry changed out because I really wanted bars but wasn't asked about jewelry choice so I have captive hoops for now.
Next time I'll have fun on Beale, hanging out at my favorite bars and spending time with my honey but you can bet we won't be going back into the little "parlor" at the end of the strip. I'll be finding a place closer to home, here in Alabama, that I can trust and that will refuse to do work on a drunken client...as any reputable establishment should do.
Disclaimer: The experience above was submitted by a BME reader and has not
been edited. We can not guarantee that the experience is accurate, truthful,
or contains valid or even safe advice. We strongly urge you to use BME and
other resources to educate yourself so you can make safe informed decisions.