Back in September 2005, I saw a picture on BME that sparked the piercing itch: it featured a fellow in the most interesting boxer shorts, and on his backside and just above his butt dimple were two tiny balls. I had never seen nor heard of a surface piercing before, so such an interesting feature piqued my interest. I wanted one! I quickly became obsessed and hungrily devoured the entirety of BME. Dozens of photos and experiences and hours put to my surface piercing education. I memorized different procedures and learned to tell what the warning signs of rejection were and what an infection looked like. I was pretty limited in that I didn't have an IAM account, but between the encyclopedia and QOD, I learned all about tygon versus PTFE, surface bar shape, angles, gauges, and materials. I wanted this lower back piercing to be permanent. It was beautiful and rare enough to be exotic and unexpected. I've yet to meet, face-to-face, someone else with this piercing. All I knew was that the piercing itch was so bad I couldn't go a day without pinching my back where I thought it would look good, gaze at my back and decide how high up I should place it so my jeans to don't rub it.
At A Glance Author ladyfootnote Contact ladyfootnote@bme.anon When A month ago Artist Andy Studio Bethesda Tattoo Co. Location Bethesda, MD My search for a piercer began. There are two studios in town. One flat up said, "Sorry, we don't do those." The other had the most terrifying portfolio of straight barbells through flat skin or hand bent barbells that I tucked tail and fled to the safety of Google. Disappointed at the local options, I scoured the internet for piercers. I tried the studios at home and got the same answers: "Too high of a rejection rate," "Don't do those," "Don't know anyone who does those," or, "I do know someone who'll do it, but improperly." Google finally brought me better results. I finally found a studio in Bethesda, Maryland, a good 2.5 hours away from where I go to school. I emailed the piercer, Andy, and things finally began to fall into place. He had a healed nape piercing in his portfolio. None of this straight barbell nonsense that frightened off people who have done research from October 2005 to January 2006.
A road trip was organized and the adventure began. I packed dinner (hooray for poptarts!) and spare clothes that hung lower and baggier in case the piercing needed its space. I grabbed a buddy and some mapquest directions along with a fistful of Christmas cash and off we went one beautiful Friday evening the day before the meteorologists all agreed that a blizzard was due. We managed to hit the D.C. beltway right at 6:00, which shot my nerves to hell. I'd never driven in traffic like that, being from a small town and going to school in a small town. I didn't like the idea of possibly having to cross 3 lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic to get to my exit.
We finally arrived in Bethesda where the traffic was chilling out at last. We found the tattoo studio almost by accident. Bethesda Tattoo Co. is in the basement of another business, so it was barely above ground for us to spot. We parked in a parking deck and my jangling nerves were finally loosening as I scrounged for parking meter money in the cracks between the seats of the car. I was still white-knuckled and shaking from just the traffic when we finally set off.
We trekked a block or so to the studio where I was greeted with the most amazing studio I'd ever seen. If it weren't for the flash on the walls or the studs in the cases, I would have sworn it was a high-class spa, the back rooms used for massage therapy and hot rock treatments. All the tattoo and piercing places I had been into at that point were definitely what I would call a tattoo "parlour" with the same feeling as a blues and jazz bar, which I enjoy as well. This was a new experience.
I was greeted by a gentleman whose skin was a lovely shade of caramel brown, but I can't remember his name for the life of me, and I told him I was here for the surface piercing. He immediately knew who I was and shouted back to Andy, who was piercing a young lady's belly button at the moment that I had arrived. That was great because it gave me time to eat some poptarts and calm down from driving in that horrendous traffic. The bad nervousness of nearly being caught in a stampede of compact cars and tractor trailers wore off and was replaced with the giddy, happy feeling of finally getting something you've always wanted. I chatted with the young lady's mother about the piercing I was there for and compared belly piercings with her. How fun it is to have something in common with strangers. My Southern heritage kicked in as I spoke with everyone who was recovering from a tattoo or piercing or waiting in line to get either one. I blame it on the nerves.
Andy came out and shook my hand and we went back to his piercing room. It looked typical, with pinups all around and flash that read things like "tippers go to heaven" or some such. I giddily pulled up my shirt. He took a purple fiddlestick marker and began marking my lower back, pinching the skin here and there. We laughed and talked and he basically put me at ease, or as much at ease as I possibly could be. He poked me with the fiddlestick once and I thought it was the needle and about jumped out of my skin! I was so excited that it was hard to hold still for him to find a good spot for placement. The result was purple all over my back.
When he and I were finally satisfied with placement we went on to which bar to use. Since I lived so far away, I couldn't come in for a consultation. He had ordered a bunch of different surface bars with which to fit me earlier that week. We decided on one that was wide enough that it wouldn't look like punctuation and it was time. He told me, due to the placement, that he would do it freehanded, so no nasty clamps.
I lay down on my tummy on his piercing bench and buried my face in my arms. He had assured me earlier that my belly button piercing hurt worse and this, and it had done much to ease my nerves. I just kept breathing like he told me and prepared for him to begin. So lying there face down, listening to Bob Marley sing from the stereo, he pinched my back and I felt the needle slide through. He paused partway through to get a better grip near the exit dot, and that was the most uncomfortable part of the whole experience. I was wide-eyed with disbelief: it really didn't hurt anywhere near as much as my belly button. I looked over my shoulder to see the needle lying flush against my skin, but I was shaking so bad that even that little movement was difficult so I buried my face again. He slipped the surface bar through with what I think might have been a taper and I was done.
Shakily I stood and sucked on a lollipop he gave me, admiring my new lovely. We chatted about aftercare as he cleaned up for the last one of the night, a girl who wanted her labret pierced. I walked out with a grin and showed my buddy and the rest of the folk waiting my new holes, still covered in purple fiddlestick. My friend looked relieved. I checked my watch, wondering how long it took and also to keep track of the parking meter (those meter checkers are vicious in D.C. Two minutes late and what was $1 becomes $60 in fines. Don't be late!) I had been in the piercing room for 45 minutes with all the lining up and marking and checking and rechecking. I was glad it had taken so long because that meant that Andy really cared about his work.
Andy took a few pictures of my fat ass with its new adornment and I paid ($115! It was worth it, though) and left as I was sure that the parking meter was nearly out. Driving was a bit of a problem. It still stung, so I just reclined the back of my seat down and enjoyed the drive home sitting ram-rod straight, happy I had burnt myself out on research so that I could be happy with my new piercing, hopefully for a long, long time. The traffic was much better.
It took about 2 weeks for all the purple to finally wash off.
One month later and its recovering from a small infection, a little red, but it hasn't migrated or rejected yet. I've been salt soaking it straight to hell and back. I've also used the soap out of the dispensers here at the school about once a week, but at such a state of dilution that the water didn't have any bubbles in it by the time I rinsed my piercing. This worked wonders with clearing up the infection. I follow any soapy soaks with a salt soak to hopefully draw out and get rid of any residue. A shot glass has been my most trusted piece of cleaning equipment. Cotton swabs work wonderfully for getting rid of crusties too.
Go to Andy in Bethesda, "normal" piercing prices are much more reasonable (nostrils are only $45). He's awesome and worth a little trip. I can only sing his praises because this piercing made me a little more complete. If gas prices were lower, I'd happily make the trek up there again for more work.