At A Glance
Author	Mr. Dana
Contact	k6dle@npgcable.com
When	Three months ago
Artist	Dana
Studio	HTC in Pheonix, AZ
Location	North Pheonix

My Piercings

October 25th, 2006 - Day of infamy, just ask my wife. While in Phoenix to pick up a piece of electronic gear I had mapped a route to the piercing place. She was shocked. I was determined but apprehensive. The more she resisted the more determined I was. I had done my homework for several weeks on the subject but still decided to go ahead anyway.

I asked her to come into the den of iniquity, "Absolutely not" she said. So I went in, boldly going where I'd never been. There I met "Dana", my torturer "select". He was pleasant to deal with, very knowledgeable, obviously into his craft on a very personable level. I expected some level of shock to register on his face or perhaps he would bust out laughing seeing a 57 year old male requesting nipple piercing's. But he covered it well and indirectly began the questioning process. "Left, right, or both? "Both" was my reply, his was "Great". It's kind of like golf, where I'm going for a hole in two strokes. I said kind of like. Poor analogy but did you ever tee off and get two holes on one stroke? I have now.

Now the process begins in earnest. He needs my driver's license. I said that I was probably over 18 years of age. He said that state law requires verification of age and a permanent record made so state officials could see if the store was acting within legal boundaries. He photocopied my driver's license only after several comments. Seems we are both named Dana. My photo ID showed me with hair and no beard, but before him stands a man with a shaved head and a beard. Now I fill in the blanks of the form. Am I sick, taking medicine, am I inebriated, have I eaten in the last 4 hours, and so on. I checked the boxes and waited to get the form graded by Dana. "Let's see", your diabetic, on blood thinners, ate two hours ago. We discussed each answer. What level of blood thinner, how is my diabetes now, what is my general health. Do I still want to go ahead, as if he thinks I'm as nuts as a nut cup?

So I asked, "Do you have the barbells that have the tapered ends that actually look like exercise barbells? He responded that the manufacturer of that item is not making them now and they were externally threaded. That is bad as I need internally threaded. Well, here is another chance to back out as he doesn't have the barbells I wanted.

"OK", what are my choices? There are only 80 possible sizes, probably more.

But approximately dead center on the barbell display board were the right ones for me as stated by my torturer. Looking back, as I admire my body modification, Dana was right about the size and length of the barbells. Of course, I love them. Remembering that Dana is a professional. He was right.

With the selections done, Dana goes to prepare the chamber where the evil work is done. What a shock as I entered the room where Dana does his most notorious deeds. There sat a chair that reminded me of a dentist chair. I made a joke that my problem is the molar on the left side. You know humor defuses fear.

What did I have to be afraid of? Pain and suffering come to mind. But I had spent a month reading personal accounts of many piercees. Accounts ranged from joyful to mildly fun. Some hinted that the pain was mild and manageable. How many times have we heard that beauty comes at a price? I was worth it but was I as ready as I thought? I am the type that often acts before understanding the full ramifications. I have had many injections and quite a few withdrawals as a blood donor with 3 and a half gallons under my belt. I can handle a little injection type pain.

However my torturer has other plans, like drawing this out, as long there is fear left in my eyes. I can't sit down right yet. No, I have to be marked with a quill like stick. Stand up straight, arms at my side, try to be casual and relaxed. HUH? My nipples are rigid with fear. No problem marking them, the problem is getting the marks level. Dana is a professional. Of course, I don't have very much experience with men marking my body for exploitation and drilling. The marks meet with his requirements. How many torturers do this much planning?

Now lay down on the chair. Remember Dana says, there are only two things that I have to do. Be calm is number one, but what was number two? Oh yeh, Breath. I have experience doing that as I have spent years practicing. How hard could that be?

Ready? Take a big breath and hold it. Here he comes needle in hand. Dana grips my right nipple and places his instrument of torture against the poor scared little guy. My nipple had apparently lost his bravado because now he is shrinking back. He wasn't thinking of screaming out "Don't", I was. True I wouldn't have screamed, just more like left the premises. But I am so involved now that my own manliness is at stake.

In the needle goes from one side to the other side. It travels one half of an inch that feels like two and a half feet. I mean that is how the pain felt. Yes, it hurt. A lot. Now Dana screws on the barbell end. The right one is done. I can breath again, but for how long? Dana misses no time walking around the chair for fear his latest work of art will leave the room hastily. Now he blocks the path of my retreat. Dana waits and makes sure that I'm down for the count. He says something encouraging but I can't remember what. I'm still stuck back in time questioning what was I thinking. A 57 year old grandfather getting his first piercing's? Am I nuts? Maybe I have some streak of masochistic tendencies that have lain dormant for many years. What ever the situation is it will have to wait because Dana's grabbing his second victim. Big breath, hold, ready, go. Two and half feet later he screws the other barbell end on. Done.

Not quite. Now the lecturing begins. Seems he's done with his part. Now my part is just beginning with the rules for cleaning rituals, don't touch, don't rotate. There are rules that go with piercings. Use sea salt for soaks several times a day. No iodide, four teaspoons per gallon. Use shot glasses to hold the warmed salt water and invert them over my wounded buddies. At least ten minutes a couple of times a day. I could use a couple of shots of something about now but not salt water.

How about a couple of Band-Aids? I am leaking a small bit on one side only. Not even bleeding as the thought of bleeding conjectures up. More like oozing.

Now I can go out to the truck and reconnect with my wife of 38 years. She didn't think I had the guts to complete my goal. What hurt worst was her reluctance to enter the evil piercing den and show support for her crazy husband. I think her words were more like "I think you're an alien". I bet she didn't mean from another country either.

I don't actually feel bad. We drive to another store as if nothing happened. She shopped, I walked around. About an hour into her shopping I began to feel nauseous. Probably the endorphins wearing off, so I sat in the truck and drank some sugar free nectar of the gods that my family absolutely hates. I love the drink so maybe I am an alien. Maybe now's a good time to reconsider my alieness for it's too late to fix my place of origin and my smarting nipples.

More shopping and finally we're on the road home, which is a two hour drive away from my name sake, the man that hurt me, my torturer select. And to think I actually paid for the pain and tipped him too.

We arrive home and I drop my scowling wife off. I go to the store-mart and pick up some cotton balls, distilled water, and coffee creamer. After all, tomorrow I'll need all the coffee I can get because tonight sleep will be almost non-existent. I set up the saltwater solution and heat some up in the microwave in a short glass. But how long do I set it for? Too cold and the soak is less efficient, but too hot and I won't need the barbells anymore. There will be nothing left to soak if the waters too hot. Now I dash for the bathroom with my warm brew. Dawning rubber gloves I clean my poor nips with the cotton balls, dabbing gently. All goes well as I left my skin in place but removed some dried blood.

Now back to the kitchen where I experiment with 15 second setting for the two shot glasses both three quarters full. Seems like the temperature is slightly cool as the soak begins. Tomorrow, I'll try 20 seconds. I lay down with the two shot glasses capturing my new pierced war-ravaged buddies. I found I like to jiggle the shot glasses to stir up the water and enhance the cleaning action after all it works for the clothes washer. Looking like cute little pink swollen agitators, like in a washing machine. I better clarify that. Cute little swollen agitated 'at me' agitators

Ten minutes drags on but ends soon enough. I wipe up the leaking water running down my stomach. The water is tinted reddish from the one leaking buddy but clear from the other buddy. All in all I feel good about myself.

That night I wear a t-shirt to bed and try to sleep on my back. I usually sleep on my side or stomach but not tonight. I toss and turned all night or so it seemed. Morning did arrive finally and none too soon. It's time for coffee and closer inspection of my new body armor. Seems now I could fend off an attack if I had to, very much like Wonder Woman. You know, ricochet bullets just by twisting my torso. Now I really do need to get some more coffee.

Here is what I saw. Both wounded peaks had oozed during the night with some blood deposited on the inside of my t-shirt. So I begin my cleaning ritual, now what length of microwaves will I try? Oh Yeh, twenty seconds. This time it's too hot so maybe 16 seconds might work. Boy, those poor boys sure know when the water soak is too hot. With a short wait and the water has cooled sufficiently for its duty to be done. Now my puffy protuberances are trapped between two small silver globes seemingly floating in a upside down magnifying glass. Where is Alice and the perpetually late rabbit right about now? At least ten minutes needed so I set the cooking timer for twelve. Just how long does a small fleshy morsel take to cook anyway?

I'm done soaking and begin my first day. My t-shirt rubs and hurts me. I put a couple of smaller band-aids on and hope the leaking stops soon. But all is well with me otherwise. I have no lingering doubts about my decision to crucify my little hurting nips. What's a little pain between friends?

In the afternoon I shower and continue trying to act as if nothing is wrong. I have soreness and continued oozing but no marked problems. But how would I know if there was a problem? This is my first piercing and I have no recollections to draw back on.

Day One - Ends with another soaking with me thinking can I do 3 or more months of soaks? What choice do I have? Random thoughts run through my mind such as What if I want another thing pierced or what if I change my mind and take these constant reminders of an afternoon of lunacy out and forget about it? One thing for sure, if I pierce anything else I'll have to have a larger shot glass like 64 ounces. OK, so I exaggerate. A man has to have his fantasies.

Day Two - Is remarkably different. Much less oozing, much less pain, almost. No leakage on my clean t-shirt over night. I slept on my side and back most of the night. Certainly can't sleep on my stomach yet. My pectorals don't like to be squeezed while sleeping but when it complains I turn and the complaints slowly disappear.

Just don't bump one. Bumping one will wake you up pretty fast. Also the car's seat belt is a little uncomfortable. But now the euphoria about my choice is setting in while pushing the doubts out.

Day Three - My nipples are tender today. No blood oozing, with just a slight possibility that they are swollen. I can't tell for sure. I'll check again tomorrow. I'm still having trouble regulating the water temperature for each soak. The problem is controlling the amount of water each time I fill the shot glasses. Live and learn I say. How about I make a mark on each glass and fill to that mark? Oh, that would be too simple.

I must say that the soaks feel really good. The soaking process causes a reduction in hard feelings between my nipples and the person that they feel betrayed them. What do they know about betrayal? How about all the times I've had my tits in a ringer over something out of my control? Did they sympathize with me then? NO. I had to cover for them.

I'm going to try a hot compress before I go to bed tonight. It would fight off infection if any is brewing. Why not cook them a little more?

I certainly go through a lot of t-shirts making sure I'm wearing a clean one each night and each day. So far day three is nearing an end and seems like no major problems.

Day Four - I am into the ritual cleanings and soakings now. I throw in a hot compress once a day for good measure. I have now discovered my tendency to enjoy wearing t-shirts that somewhat display my body artwork, albeit modestly. What an image I must present. What they see is an older man, no hair, beard, nipple piercings, and think what a nut. What I think is "If they really knew how confident I am about myself being the divine ruler of my kingdom. Too bad we never speak frankly enough about our goals and dreams. Our visions of whom we are and desire to be is locked away in our minds. Oh, we wish others to know what we feel but are often too timid inside to act out our needs and wants. And when we do act out our needs and wants then many look poorly on us. Maybe what I need next is a motorcycle and leathers to more look the part of the outgoing person that is hidden inside the man known as Dana, who is myself.

What a coincidence to be pierced by Dana and the other Dana is the one growing more assertive and confidant. Some say there is no such thing a coincidence. I believe that to be true. Maybe the piercer Dana is more like my internal Dana than I am right now. He has demonstrated more of his confidence than I have yet to do. Time will reveal more about me. Am I able to wait and comprehend the time earned lessons?

Day Five - I worked under the house mounting the central vacuum canister. I had to drill into cinder block filled with concrete to a depth of 5 inches. Pushing on the drill motor was not too bad but again I'm reminded to watch my arms and avoid punishing my poor little not-so-much friends any more than I have already. Things went well overall.

Day Six - Tomorrow will mark one week since Dana-Day. That's when I lost the last of my marbles. On day six there is nothing to report of significance. Things went pretty well except the part where I banged my right nipple with a vacuum cleaner canister I was lifting and needed to set down. Boy, that hurt. Later the pain is all forgotten. At the time I thought there would be blood at least. That is how much it hurt.

Day seven - One week today. My nipples are much less sensitive today to my shirt rubbing them. I'll take that as a good sign. Each is still trapped inside two silver balls with no major complaints. Sleeping was almost painless last night. I even squeezed my pectorals with my upper arm just to see if they were sensitive to pressure. They didn't complain at all. What a relief.

Day thirty- One month has gone by. There are times I think I'm completely healed. But, I know better. Over the month I have missed a few soakings but probably not even six out of 60 possible. I have two more months of soakings to go and find that during the time I'm soaking I do leg exercises and back stretches. The exercises make the ten minutes go by faster.

I'm still finding out what an exhibitionist I am. I wear T-shirts as often as possible. I watch for people's expressions and facial twitches. It's actually quite a source of amusement for me.

I told one of my two Marine corp. sons one night. I phrased it as "What would you say if I told you I had my nipples pierced? He said and I quote "You didn't, I know that your making this up. LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA" So without proving that I did I just told him that without proof as to did I or did I not, he would just lay awake at night and wonder about it. He said he would not lose any sleep as he knew I didn't. So basically we left it at that. He doesn't know if I fabricated the story or not. I'm not sure he is grownup enough for the truth yet. He is a Turret gunner on a tank crew so he is man enough to do his job with verifiable skills but still not man enough to face family personal matters full on, face to face. We all grow at our own pace, don't we?

I have shopped for replacement barbells on the Internet during this month. I am still looking for the ones that are shaped like exercise barbells but have not confirmed to myself that they are externally threaded. I'll keep looking until I am satisfied that I can't buy them or wear them.

This ends my story. Its been thirty days and counting. I'm happy and content with my decision. My learning and growing process will go on though. Was my story a comedy, a tragedy, or a true personal experience? I think it was all three. Comedy fights fear, while tragedy is human existence, and personal experience is what we learn from. I have done all three and tried to tell my 30-day story as truthfully as I could. But, I still wear my T-shirt that says "I MAKE STUFF UP".

Mr. Dana

K6DLE@npgcable.com