When I was fifteen I thought I was ready to begin modifying my body. I'm a smart kid, I did some research, hung around the shops, and felt pretty competent in the matter. All my older friends had something done to them; one even had his face tattooed. I felt left out, and was eager to fit in with my friends. I had friends in the piercing industry and after a while its hard to listen to them talk shop without wanting something yourself. I thought I knew what I was doing. So at the tender age of sixteen I got my first piercing. My hope is that someone will read this and not make the same mistakes I did.
At A Glance Author anonymous Contact [email protected] Artist various Studio various Location Midwest On my birthday, which fell on a weekend, my friends and I were sitting around afterhours in the shop. I had been drinking and also smoking marijuana. On a whim we pierced my frenum. I had never had anything pierced before, with the exception of my left ear, which was done by some hack at the local mall. Despite my anxieties, which were amplified because some strange girls I had never met before were watching, the pain was minimal and actually provided a neat rush. Aftercare was no problem.
It was fun to show off at parties and things, and sex was a little more interesting. But I noticed that the placement of the barbell was crooked. Though this didn't really bother me at the time, because I was so happy just to have it, now that is something that would have annoyed me to no end and caused me to redo it. A combination of the piercer's inexperience and my jitters most likely caused it to be off. But this is a moot point, because just four months later I took it out. I was on the receiving end of a blowjob and the girl performing it seemed to be having difficulties dealing with the 7/8" barbell in there, so I offered to take it out. After she was done, when I went to put it back in, the hole had begun to close up. I decided not to pursue the matter because it hurt too much.
But I wasn't too upset because I had just gotten a new toy, my septum ring. Another afterhours decision, made over a plate of nachos. This is the one mod that to do this day I am completely satisfied. The placement is perfect, it stretched well, and my 8 gauge ring I have in now looks very nice. I'm probably partial to it because I can remove it at any time without any visual consequence, and do so for weeks at a time.
When I was sixteen and a half I got my first tattoo. It was done by an excellent artist in town, very professional, very nice. I know that begs the question, "What kind of professional tattoos sixteen year olds?" To this I reply, "Sixteen and a half." Seriously though, I had him believing I was of age. Or maybe he did know, and just looked the other way. I'm sure many purists who read BME will be upset by this, but the fact is this happens all the time, and not just at shady back alley studios. Someone hangs around the studio long enough, talks shop with the owner or one of the artists, comes back in with an older friend who had work done there before, and so on. I had two consultations with the owner before I sat down in the chair to have it done.
My tattoo is technically perfect and looks good. It is solid black and takes up a good part of my right shoulder. The only problem is it's a band logo. A band I really liked when I was sixteen. A band that I now hate. The thing is, it's not that I drastically changed my tastes or style even. It's just something that happens. What a difference two years makes. This is a constant source of frustration, as I try to think of a design to cover it up. Because of the nature of the work, it will have to be something tribal, large and very thick. This was not in my original plan for my body, and though I'm don't mind covering my right shoulder and arm in thick black, it just sucks that I have to settle for something.
When I was seventeen I began stretching my ears. I had them pierced with a 12 gauge needle and put in 14 gauge rings that tapered to 10. Within a week I was at ten. I had that done in May, and by October I was at 3/8." I was so concerned with speed, I was so impatient, that I cut some corners. I didn't use tapers after 6 gauge; instead, I just stuffed my holes with excess jewelry. Somehow my left ear came out just fine, while my write had a blowout. The hole is also not quite circular. Let me tell you, blowouts are unattractive. Right now I'm considering the fishing line/scalpel removal process because my ear disgusts me so much.
My most painful and foolish modification experience was my industrial. I had it done in my left ear around the time I began stretching my lobes. By now I was frequenting a different shop, but this problem would have come up anywhere I went in the city I lived in. When the piercer followed through with an externally threaded barbell. This was painful. Also, and I'm not an expert so I can't say if this would be a problem or not, but he used the same needle for both holes. It seems to me that the needle would be slightly dulled. It hurt bad, but I expected this from a cartilage piercing. Getting my septum done was about as fun as getting punched in the nose. Anyways, my ear was read for a week. I avoided sleeping on my left side, but once the pain died down, so did my aftercare. One mistake was my constant exposure of the area to hair spray. I had a mohawk and was more concerned with how my hair looked than with taking proper care of my ear. I started rolling over onto my left side at night.
Predictably, a massive keloid formed on the back of the exit hole. I had no idea what the hell this thing was, and was too ashamed to go back in to the studio and ask. After all, I was still seventeen, and though this guy was nice enough when we were doing business, he probably didn't want anything to do with the underage kid who was messed up. I thought it would go away if I poked it. Or cut it. Or squeezed it. Or boiled it. No sir it did not. Two years later it is still there, though much smaller. Though almost tolerable, it's exactly the sort of thing that really bothers me. I'm still trying to get rid of it.
The moral of the story is BE PATIENT. Even when I thought I knew what I was doing, I really didn't. Important information, subtle details, were missing. Permanent decisions were made as a teenager. If I had known then what I do now, I would have done things differently. It's not that I am no longer interested in body modification- far from it. I just wish I had thought things through more. So my advice to you, young man or lady, is to wait. Even if you are confident, wait. You will be glad you did.