... Even if for the wrong reasons.
At A Glance Author Aeria Contact Aeria@bme.anon When A week ago Artist Lee Studio Savage Art Location Bedford, England I had always wanted a tongue piercing since my (now ex) boyfriend got his done. The thought of a bar through your tongue always intrigued me though I never did figure out why. Unfortunately he had to take his out due to tearing the hole repeatedly so I never really knew anything about them (and apparently neither did he).
Skip forward two years, five piercings and three tattoos later. My current partner got his tongue pierced two weeks ago on Friday, despite promising to wait until we could go together. He told me over the phone from work, and immediately I was shocked and rather indignant that he'd done it without me. My first response other than stony silence was "Well, you're paying for mine." He agreed, feeling rather guilty for going back on his previous promise and promised when he had a day off we'd go and get it done.
A friend and I had planned a trip into Bedford for Chinese food and a movie and I knew we'd being going to Savage Art since she hadn't seen it since Paul had his tattoo studio there. I decided to get a quote on how much a design I wanted tattooed on my wrist would cost me, and enquire about when getting my second helix would be a safe bet. I decided that I would go and get my tongue done while I had the opportunity, and my partner could pay me back that night. However I had almost run out of money, and with pay day two weeks away I was starting to realise that maybe I would have to wait. Then I remember that my mother owed me money and I went out with her that morning to get it. I announced in the car that I wanted to get my tongue pierced.
Bad idea.
She started ranting about how she didn't like the person I was becoming, that none of this was me and that what I had was enough. She firmly forbade me to get it done. But I was adamant that I was going to get this tongue piercing, and the fact she said no made me more determined.
Having read that eating a lot before the piercing was a good idea, we went to the Chinese buffet as planned and then wandered up to see Lee. He had just started working on another customer's leg tattoos when I wandered in. He looked up and beckoned me in. I showed him the design and he gave me a good quote for what I was asking of him, and then booked an appointment to go back for my piercing a couple of hours later when he had an opening.
As soon as I left the shop I started regretting my decision. I collapsed into a chair at the Caffé Crema with a latte and said "I shouldn't have made that appointment." Everything my mum had said just kept playing in my head, and it suddenly occurred to me that for once I wasn't really getting this piercing for myself, but rather out of spite for her.
This time I was determined to do what I wanted, and despite all the doubts I now had, she couldn't stop me. I text her stating that I was going to get it done, and that I knew who I was and a hole in my tongue isn't going to change that. I got no reply, so I wandered Bedford chatting with my friend until it was time to head back to Savage Art. Despite the dread and guilt I felt, I still had that giddy excited feeling I get every time I go back. I'd had work done when he was working at Artline before he moved the studio and changed the name. I was always pleased with his work, and always went back for more.
I walked in just as he was setting up. My friend decided she was not going to be any where near the procedure and sat out on the leather sofa muttering "Ack, needles."
I was getting more nervous by the second and started talking about when he'd pierced my friend Mark's tongue and forgot to ask him to spit out the numbing spray before opening his mouth. He grinned and said he remembered as he sat me in the chair. I was seconds away from saying "Sorry, this is a mistake. I'll come back for my wrist piece in a few weeks." But by then saying anything was impossible as he was checking that my tongue was suitable for the piercing.
Discovering I was suitable he held up the dreaded spray. "It's meant to taste like bananas," he scoffed. "It doesn't. And it tastes worse by the second... But it does its job!" While I was bathing my tongue in the liquid, clutching the paper towels he gave me in case I drooled (or he forgot to get me to spit it out), I realised he was right, though I could faintly taste the banana taste which should have been pleasantly overpowering.
My stomach was doing flips thinking about everything my mother had said. I cursed her silently for making me doubt it after wanting it for so long. He changed his gloves again as he instructed me to spit out the spray and stick my tongue out as far as I could. He clamped my tongue and just went straight to work as usual. By then I was almost delirious from regretting it. A slight pressure as usual, but I could very clearly feel it pushing through my tongue. He kept telling me to keep my tongue out as twice when he was sorting the jewellery I tried to retract it slightly.
Another change of gloves and before I know it the bar is in and the ball is done up. It was too late to turn back without having to spend a penny. I handed him the £30 and sat down per his instruction. But I was feeling nervous rather than faint, and started looking in the boxes of jewellery until he ordered me to sit because he did not want me collapsing and destroying his display boxes. I sat there for the five minutes discussing which of the tribal pieces would work on one of our friends (who plans two large tattoos, and still looks down on me slightly for my mods) before he decided that I was fine and I was free to leave. He reminded me to come back the next week when the swelling was down to get the shorter bar put in. My friend was still sulking since she was looking forward to laughing at my inability to talk properly, and I wasn't having a problem at all.
My tongue swelled up to twice its size, but it was ignored fairly easily while we watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Since I was staying with my mum she offered us a lift home, and to her word she came and collected us. She avoided the subject of my tongue until my friend had gone before she said quietly "You got it done, didn't you?" I didn't lie. But I did tell her that I told her in the text that I was going to. The reason she hadn't replied was she assumed I'd already got it done. She too was surprised at how easily I was talking.
I realised as soon as I got home that I hadn't got any ibuprofen, and then realised there was no food I could eat. It was starting to irritate me and hurt slightly as I'd knocked it accidentally. I collapsed into my mother's arms sobbing.
"You fool," she said softly. "You know you can't stand pain. Why do you think I said don't do it, huh?"
I suddenly realised how right she was, and for once realised that she had done it to protect me, rather than because she didn't agree with it.
"You'll be alright." And she went to bed, shaking her head at me in mock despair.
I kept to iced water that night and went out to buy soup and ice cream the next morning, relieved that I finally had something to eat. As promised, the ibuprofen stopped the dull pain in my tongue, and although the swelling didn't really go down by much, just by being a fraction smaller.
The first night I slept fine, and I was in no pain until I forgot I'd got it done and tried to lick my lips. Each day it got easier as the swelling reduced. Stuck on a diet of soup and ice cream, I couldn't complain much (though I did discover that chips, noodles and Nutrigrain bars were easily eaten once you figured a way to stop using your tongue so much, and kept a glass of water handy).
I kept aftercare to a minimum: rinsing my mouth with water when I ate, a cap full of diluted mouthwash after smoking, and rinsing with mouthwash in the morning and the evening. Its been a simple piercing to heal, and for someone who lapses in aftercare I stuck to the regime rather strictly.
I stuck with the piercing and now I've fallen in love with it, and can't imagine being without it. My mother has accepted my new addition, my father is still coming to terms with my having 'a' tattoo (and I still don't have the heart to tell him otherwise), and my partner still hasn't paid me back.