This story actually began several months ago with a finicky craftsman who wouldn't let me leave his shop with imperfect work. There have been many hurdles between me and this piercing, including supply of 8g needles; time and money to do it; waiting for nasal allergy seasons to subside; you name it. As I said earlier today, and believe I may still be saying when I am 95 and a (more) wrinkled old coot with a cane: Damn, that was completely worth it.
At A Glance Author Ka Crow Contact Ka Crow@bme.anon IAM Ka Crow When It just happened Artist Eric "Hollywood" Studio Wade's Tattooing and Piercing Location Lancaster, PA The piercing itself had intrigued me for some time. It was not a delicate, feminine piercing, the way a lot of women wear nostril studs. It is, quite literally and focally, "in your face" -- at the visual center point of it all. I'm not sure when I decided that I wanted to pierce at 8g, which, when you have a narrow sweet spot, is a game of Annoy the Piercer. But as with my first tattoo, I wanted my first facial piercing to "go big or go home." By now, my amazing stretchy lobes are at 7/16" and I tend to wear attention-getting jewelry in them, so a little 14g captive bead ring wasn't going to cut it.
I had been to Eric (IAM: HollywoodPiercer) before for some earware installation, and so was already confident in his work and the shop where he pierces -- Wade's Tattooing and Piercing smells extra-super-clean, as it ought to, which is reassuring. On the first attempt, I sat in the chair and Eric, King of Glove Changes, swabbed out my nostrils, positioned my head, and then carefully positioned the receiving tube and needle freehand. I won't say the passage of an 8g needle through my fairly thick septum didn't hurt, but it wasn't as bad as I'd expected; Eric followed the needle with the septum retainer quite smoothly. There was just one hiccup when he'd finished: the piercing, like the great poet Allen Ginsberg, simply wasn't straight. Eric showed me the problem in the mirror, and I honestly thought he was expecting me to slap him. He admitted that the best fix for the problem, since a large-gauge retainer wouldn't have the cheese-cutter effect that tugging forward on 14g jewelry might, would simply be to take the jewelry out and repierce. Piercers of the world, listen up -- this is what to do. Be honest. That honesty brought me back to Eric's shop for the successful second attempt.
This time, Eric used forceps to weigh down the bottom of my nose and pull open my sweet spot for a clearer view. He didn't use septum clamps, however, as 8g needles are too big to pass through the ones he had -- perhaps there's not as much demand for huge honking septums like this? He noticed, as he walked around to my right side (he still brought the needle through from my left), that I'd gripped the chair, and asked me if I was nervous. "Of course I'm nervous!" I said. "If it didn't hurt a little, it wouldn't be bodymod." He agreed about that, having only a week ago performed a dermal anchor on himself. (Although it looks months old, not a week old, and looks absolutely great, I do feel compelled to say, Kids! Don't try that at home! Maybe even if you're a piercer!) The pain was now my only real concern. I'd been worried before that the piercing was too confrontational, too much a blow against the innocence I also like to think I carry. However, since my husband recently buried a friend who was, like him, a year into cancer remission and seemingly doing fine, my attitude toward these things keeps being altered. So I went for it. And it worked.
It took three pushes to get the needle through my stubborn, thick septum. If that spot is the "sweet" one, I don't want to know what the other ones are like. Both eyes, of course, teared up reflexively, and by the second push I made a face; on the third, Eric told me later, I looked almost about to cry, as if some real emotional upwelling was about to be released. Suffice it to say that I think Eric was right. Bartenders, piercers -- the amateur shrinks of the world. Then Eric followed through with the niobium retainer. Like, ouch. But then it was done.
I felt myself gush blood, and once more Eric stripped off his nitrile gloves, put on a new pair, and folded a paper towel to catch the gush and clean me up. He explained to me that the exit wound made by the needle had pushed aside some tissue which would die off and fall out during the healing process. No big deal; I've had my wisdom teeth out. Grosser things have happened. When I was finally clean and presentable, Eric handed me a mirror, and I just grinned like a fool because it was perfect. The placement was perfect; the type of piercing was perfect -- it was evident on first sight that a septum piercing looked far, far better on me, especially with the type of ear jewelry I like to wear, than a nostril placement would have. "There's the grin," Eric said with justifiable pride, and it was true.
He gave me a glove and showed me how to stretch out my upper lip to open up room in my nose so I could flip the retainer up (where it will remain during healing) and down again, and let me practice with a mirror. When I flipped the retainer up, oddly, I was gleeful all over again. "I have a secret!" I exclaimed to Eric, sounding perhaps like a woman who's just had her clitoral hood done. But I do have a secret that makes me gleeful. I have a lovely secret hidden up my nose for when I have to look like a Normal Person, and when it's healed, I can wear nifty crescents in it for... well, those times when I can. Perhaps not English department meetings, but other times!
Something that's intrigued me for a while: There is a LiveJournal community for people with an interest in managing chronic pain -- like mine from spinal problems -- via body mods. I'd wondered how that would work out. The piercing, I do have to say, hurt like hell while it was happening. I would, however, do it all over again for that first look at myself in the mirror with the simple black metal retainer in my nose. And it absolutely, completely distracted me from thinking about my back. In fact, it's nearly ten hours later as I write this, and call me Little Endorphin Annie, but my back still doesn't hurt.I was shaky enough afterward that Eric's very kind apprentice brought me some orange juice, and Eric put a cold compress on the back of my neck. Fair enough; this piercing is minor surgery, really, and I should have had a granola bar first, because it really had been too long since breakfast. I wish I could have tipped more, but what I can do is recommend the hell out of my piercer -- go see this man immediately; he is skilled, persistent, and perfectionist, which are all qualities you want.
As for recommending the piercing? It sometimes seems standard practice to insist at the end of one of these experiences that everybody should go out and get (name of body part) pierced immediately. That's silly. Not every face and not every look is right for a septum piercing, especially at the relatively large initial gauge I chose; if you have access to Photoshop, do what I did and play around with a photo of your face and one approximating the target jewelry. I know that for me, it was absolutely the right thing to do, and I will adhere religiously to the shop's aftercare (saline, of course, is heavily involved), because I want to take care of -- and in the right circumstances, show off -- my wonderful new 8g nasal secret.