I decided to get my tongue pierced about five years ago. I had been talking about it, hemming and hawing, but kept putting it off. Finally, the guy I was smitten with at the time went and got his pierced so I felt like I HAD to do since he did his.
At A Glance Author balltongueblue Contact balltongueblue@bme.anon When Five years ago I went through the phone book and called every piercing salon in the area to inquire about prices. I settled on the place that was the cheapest. (Frugal (and unwise) chick that I am.)
I called my ex, who owed me some money, and had him meet me at the salon so he could pay for it. If my memory serves me correctly it was like $45, including the jewelry. Hole in the wall place, but their stuff was sterile. Location left a bit to be desired, but I ain't no stranger to the "hood".
I got in there and was nervous as heck. I signed the waivers and everything and was shown to the little seat with handlebars on the side. I later learned that the handlebars were there to save both me (and my piercer) a little bit o' grief. I swished with mouthwash then sat down, thus sealing my doom.
The worst part about the piercing was the damn clamps. Felt like he was going to yank my tongue right out of my head with those things. My poor tongue was not used to being stretched out so far.
He marks the spot where he is going to insert the needle, then stops and tells me hold on to the handlebars because I am unwittingly pushing him away from me. I also think that he was afraid I might punch him as he was piercing. I tend to be a bit intimidating at times. *snicker*
The actual piercing itself were not as god awful as I had been anticipating. Which is to say that I didn't pass out, pee my pants or injure my piercer in a pain-induced frenzy. It was not a pleasant feeling however. Rather, akin to having ones teeth yanked out sans novocaine.
After he put the barbell in and removed the hated clamp I felt a bit woozy for a minute or two. Or three. He told me to remain sitting because I had lost a bit of color.
Afterwards it was all good. He told me how to care for the piercing and sent me on my way. I kept looking at my tongue in the car mirror all the way home. Stopped at my aunt's house, who gave me a container of greens to take home with me. Little did I know that eating would be a dreadful ordeal for about two days. It's a good thing I like Jell-O and soup. If I attempted to eat anything I had to chew I inadvertently ended up biting the ball, thus causing vast amounts of pain to the tongue.
The swelling was awful, but the speech impediment was worse. The healing process was relatively painless once my tongue muscle healed after being stretched to it's limit by that sadist with the clamp.
After about six months I decided to go in and get a smaller barbell put in. The guy who had pierced it said that he had kept his original barbell because he liked to "play" with it. Clicking it on the teeth, sucking on it, etc. This disgusts and annoys me and I hate when I see people do this. I try to be a little more discreet about my piercing.
Anyway, I get the smaller barbell and put it in myself. Somehow I manage to injure the flesh on the bottom of the tongue in the process because each night the bottom ball slips into this bruised pocket of flash under my tongue. In the morning I pop it back out again. This happens daily for about three weeks until I pop it out and manage to really damage this pocket of flesh one morning. That evening when the ball slips back into it's little hiding place my injured tongue begins to heal itself, trapping the ball inside my tongue. Scar tissue formed right over the ball.
I wigged out. Called the place where I had gotten the piercing done, but all they could tell me was to go see an oral surgeon. Then I ended up calling a place called Mos Eisley's where I explained to one of their piercers the problem I was experiencing. He said he had never heard of what I was describing and told me to come in so he could take a look. He didn't make me any promises.
I showed up about half an hour later and he took me into one of the little rooms, along with my ex who again accompanied me for moral support. The piercer took a look at my tongue and said he could try to cut the scar tissue open to remove the ball. I told him it was worth a shot. He got out some surgical scissors, donned the gloves and snipped a star shaped incision underneath my tongue, then popped the ball out.
He recommended that I loose the piercing and let the hole close up. I declined to go that route so then he recommended that I have a much larger gauge barbell put it. He stretched the hole and I walked away with a brand new barbell. (I'll be damned if I can remember the gauge. A ten, I think.) I love it.
Fin