My interest in body modification began at a very young age. The idea of connecting spiritual with physical was fascinating. However, my elders could not figure out why for the life of them. They tried their best to steer me away from body modification, yet I was too drawn to it. My mother despises it.
At A Glance Author LadySwank Contact LadySwank@bme.anon IAM LadySwank When A month ago Artist Myself. Studio Home Upon my first piercing, I was surprised to find that the sensations and feelings of the needle going through my flesh appealed to me far more than the look of the jewelry in it afterwards. Subsequently, I began "play piercing" to satisfy that part of me that wanted to feel the sharp medium go through my skin. It's almost an addiction, as hard as it is to admit, however I believe it to be a healthy one. Every human being has some form of addiction or weakness, this is mine.
Approximately one month ago, I started one of my play piercing sessions. For a reason unbeknownst to me, my favourite place to pierce is my lip. I chose my lip/labret area to be the place where I would pierce. I opened my needle packages, my sanitizing equipment, and set the usual things up on a tray. I like to keep gauze/tissue nearby, just in case of bleeding. I also like to keep saline close; I particularly love the feeling of the saline solution traveling through the hole after I have put the needle through.
The first needle was to go through my labret area, in the direct centre. The sharp edge of the needle gently tickling my lip before I began to push is the greatest feeling. My heart beats fast and adrenaline pumps through my veins. After a couple seconds of enjoying the feeling, I began to push. The needle began to break through layers of my flesh, and I enjoyed every second of it. The intense sensations not of pain, not of burning, but of fabulous pressure and almost erotic ambiance surrounded me. It eluded me.
The needle was through, and I was then to begin with the second needle. Leaving the first needle still in, I positioned the second on the left side of my lip. I began to push and it was like putting a hot knife through butter. It was so fast and easy to push through, that I almost wanted to take it out and do it again just to feel something. However, I ignored the issue and moved onto the third needle in hopes of feeling something, anything.
I lined up the needle in the correct place, and pushed slowly. Very, very slowly. I felt each tear of every layer of skin; pop, pop, pop. The feeling was an immense rush of endorphins almost; the feeling of having all three needles in at once was euphoria. After the third, I lay back on my floor and enjoy the state of full awareness and a state of higher consciousness. I don't know what it is about my lip; no other place can so easily give me these feelings. I don't feel pain here, it's like craving when you're addicted to something. You can't stop and you feel that need to have it. My need is to push, to go farther, and to feel it.
As I lay upon my floor, I get to thinking. I try to understand what it is that makes me do this. I search my brain for answers, I can't think of anything other than the physical aspects, the sensations it brings me and the state of mind that accompanies it. After running through several possible hypotheses, I come to no conclusions. It's almost like finding an answer to a rhetorical question. Being part of the human race, it makes me wonder why many of us feel the urge to play with our bodies. And if we are feeling these urges, then why do we feel pain? Isn't pain supposed to warn us that we're hurting our bodies? Or is it to lead us to something bigger?
...After the feeling had died down, I removed the needles slowly and carefully. Small drops of blood rose to the surface of my skin, bittersweet. I wiped my lip and the gauze quickly absorbed the red liquid. Apart from the redness below my lip it was as if nothing had ever touched the skin. The holes were nearly invisible and I felt like I was getting away with something. As soon as the needles are taken out, I feel so devious, so deceptive, like I have some dirty little secret. It's silly, I know, because in the end I'm happy with the scars I've left. But it feels so good to know that I can walk out of my room bearing only small, just barely recognizable scars. But as small as they may be, I wear them proudly. I am not afraid to be what I am, and IAM in love with body modification.