I once had a surface piercing. She was beautiful. She made up for everything that I thought I wasn't, for everything I couldn't see in myself I could see in that little piece of metal. I felt beautiful, no matter what people around me would say, I finally felt alright being me.
At A Glance Author Nicole Contact brainstew_girl@hotmail.com When A year ago Studio First on Granville Location Vancouver At the time of my Madison piercing I was young. I'm still young. I was fifteen when I got it done, soon to be 16 in a matter of days. It was my present to myself, I thought I deserved something for making it as far in life as I had, and I wasn't sure how much longer I would be around for. I had a drug problem when I was pierced too, my piercer didn't know, and I should have informed him.
I was in Vancouver, doing my normal shopping along Granville Street, walked into First on Granville, my piercing shop, and started talking to the staff. I needed balls for my rings; they had broken when I was trying to take them out. I got the beads, and then started talking about a new piercing. I was asking about getting my Madison done. I was told the jewellery that was needed wasn't in stock. They could order it for me and I could come back in a couple of weeks to get it done, or my piercer would do his best to see if he could find a ring that was somewhat suitable. I made an appointment for a few days later, in the evening.
I spent the next couple of days in a rather messed up state, doing way too many drugs and not eating enough along with no sleep, and far too many parties in a day. I gathered my money together and gave it to a sober friend to hang on to. I wanted this piercing, no matter how fucked up I was.
The day of the piercing I caught the bus then the sky-train alone, with my money in my pocket, drugs running through my veins instead of the normal blood that fills everyone else. My bus was late, then the sky-train had to make trade offs two stations before mine. I was thirty-five minutes late. I ran down the street hoping that there might be an opening later on in the evening. I was in luck. After a few comments about my late arrival I was told that if I checked back in about 45 minutes I might be good to go.
I wandered around Pacific Centre Mall, with no real shopping ambition I just watched all the different people, and the lives that I would never know. I always wondered if other people watched people the way I do. Time to head back to First.
I walked in, was greeted, told that there was a time slot for me in 20 minutes. I filled out the forms, then headed to grab myself a juice. I came back and was escorted to one of the back rooms. I was cleaned marked, and checked. Now for the actual procedure.
I was marked with the funny purple pen, and told to move my head and neck to see how much they moved. Too much...marked again...moved my head...Perfect! I laid down. I was clamped; they slipped, clamping the side of my neck instead. Not going to lie, that hurt more than the actual piercing itself. He apologized, and tried once again, this time they stayed put. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out, slowly with my heart pounding so hard I thought it might escape, 1...2....3...in and as I started to exhale the needle went through. I slight moan from me, and a reminder to continue breathing from my piercer. The ring was put through, and my bead placed in its proper destination.
I was beautiful, beside the giant hickey like mark on the side of my neck. I paid, tipped and thanked, then was offered a ride by one of the counter staff girls, a friend of my sister and me. I thanked her, and was on my way back to my friend's place, where I was staying for the time being.
My beautiful piercing didn't last. And it wasn't the actual piercing, or my aftercare. It was my lifestyle. All the drugs and alcohol and everything else just beat the shit out of my body, and not to mention my mind. I had my beauty for about six months, she constantly lymphed, hurt, turned. I tried everything. I was even clean for about 2 months at one point. She got better during that time. But I was dragged back in. Finally I had to have her removed. I wasn't in Vancouver anymore though, so I just went to a local piercer, here in Port Alberni. She removed it for me; I thanked her and felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.
I did drugs once or twice after I had that piercing removed; I always look at the two little round scars on my neck from her. She reminds me of my past, and tells me that I can be beautiful no matter what, as long as I believe it myself.
It was not a good idea to get pierced while on drugs, but then again doing drugs wasn't the brightest idea either. My experience isn't really going to give anyone any insight on this piercing, but I wanted to share the fact that a piercing helped me see something in myself that I couldn't see before. My first insight into the 'real world'.