At A Glance Author enthean Contact entheatus@hotmail.com IAM enthean When A year ago Studio Soulphire Tattoo Location North Vancouver, BC This tale begins with a bit of a background story. I am a small Asian girl (or armrest, depending on who you ask), raised in North Vancouver, BC. I currently attend the University of Guelph in Ontario. Several years ago I got my septum pierced at 16-ga and have been progressively stretching it ever since. I stretch at a reasonably slow pace, waiting at least a couple months between sizes. For about half a year now I've had it at 0-ga, and seeing as it is my favourite piercing of all, I've prided myself on the level of care with which I treat my septum.
And so begins our cautionary tale.
During the last month of grade 12, I ordered a lovely 8-ga CBR with 6 internally-threaded spikes all about the ring, and, like a child on Christmas morning, was excited to use it right away. However, since I went to a private Catholic high school that forbids visible piercings of any sort, I was hard-pressed to find an occasion at which to wear my new jewellery. An opportunity arose as the school's annual International Night, at which I would be volunteering, approached. It was to be held on a Friday evening, after school hours, and was quite open to the public, so I would be free to dress as I liked. Conveniently, there was enough time between the end of the school day and the start of the event for me to take a quick trip to my regular piercer to get the hefty, hard-to-close 8-ga jewellery inserted.
However, on the day of International Night, I decided that instead of spending the entirety of the $1.50 bus fare to get to my regular piercer across the water in downtown Vancouver, I'd just walk to one of the local shops in North Vancouver to get the jewellery inserted. Sure, I'd heard some rather shady things about some of these shops, but hey, how bad could it be? It was just a simple jewellery change.
Right?
So, after school on Friday, I made the 20-minute walk from my school to a place called Soulphire Tattoo. Upon entering the shop I already was uncomfortable. It felt cramped and dingy, and didn't have the reassuring hospital smell that I was used to at my regular piercer's. Two of the workers there were having a conversation, and upon me entering, just turned to stare at me like I was some sort of alien, before going back to their conversation. I had to stand there for about 10 minutes before one of them finally turned and said, "Can we help you or something?"
"Yes, please, I'd just like to get some jewellery inserted." I am an idiot.
The piercer took his time in getting up and wordlessly turning to go to the back. I stood for another few seconds before I realised I was supposed to follow him. The back of the shop was a bunch of open cubicle-type rooms, and when I sat in the chair, I was only feet away from, and in plain view of, a guy getting tattooed in the next cubicle. At this point I was still reassuring myself that it was only a simple jewellery change. The piercer grabbed a sterilised ring opener, though sans gloves. I took out my jewellery and unscrewed the spikes, and handed over the ring.
The piercer's conversation was erratic and incoherent at times. At times, it seemed he was talking more to the CBR than to me...and when his hands approached my face to slip the 8-ga ring through my 0-ga tunnel, the heavy scent of pot smoke washed over me. At this point I was kicking myself for having come here, but I calmed myself down, again reassuring myself that it was just a simple jewellery insertion. He put the ring through fine and tightened it, and then said I could screw on the spikes myself. I did so as quickly as possible and left the shop, taking a big breath of fresh air as soon as I got outside.
International Night went well and I got many compliments on my septum. The ring itself looked wonderful and went well with my recently shaved head and my long black cheongsam. Right afterwards, when I was about to head home, I realised something was terribly wrong.
I come from a rather conservative family in terms of body modification. Though I got my first (gunned) lobes when I was seven, I had to beg and plead for years before my mother let me get second lobes, and of course any other piercings were out of the question. I'd hidden my other piercings up until now, and had planned to take the ring out of my septum before my parents could see. However, when I unscrewed the spikes and went to pop the ball out, I found that no amount of pressure I put on the ball would make it come out – the piercer had made the ring ridiculously tight. It felt as though the ball was fused to the CBR.
That night I came home under the pretence of having a bad cough so I could cover my mouth and nose, and slipped up to my room and into bed as quickly as I could to avoid my parents. When they went to sleep, I snuck back downstairs and grabbed a pair of my dad's pliers (my mom had found and confiscated my ring openers and closers months before). It wasn't sterile and it wasn't safe, but I was panicking and desperate to get the ring out. I tried for a good hour and a half to pry it open, but to no avail. I spent the rest of the night barely able to sleep out of anxiety.
The next morning I pretended to sleep in until I heard my mother leave for work, and then got up and wrapped a bandana around my face when I dressed, telling my dad in as I rushed out the door that I would be going out for a little bit. Mercifully, my habit of acting weird and random a lot paid off, and my dad didn't question my new fashion statement. I ran to the bus terminal and headed straight for my regular shop in downtown Vancouver – Adrenaline Piercing and Tattoo. There, my regular piercer Erynn greeted me with a grin and a "Nice ring," upon which I explained to her the situation. I braced myself for the impending lecture...
"Alright, no problem, let's get that ring out for you," She said.
I blinked at the lack of lecture before following Erynn into the wonderfully clean and antiseptic-smelling piercing room. There she donned a pair of gloves and opened a pair of sterilised ring openers. Now Erynn is no weakling, and she's the head piercer at the shop, having pierced for years. I had never seen her struggle so much with something so simple as opening a CBR – it was that insanely tight.
"Holy shit, this is tight," She exclaimed, before having to call in the male piercer for help. I didn't catch his name, but he was a darling. He also put on a pair of gloves and took up the ring openers. It took him three tries before he was finally able to pry the ring open. My nose was very, very thankful. After almost 24 hours of having the CBR fused into my septum, it was out. Erynn took out a pair of ring closers and closed it for me so that it was tight, but had just enough give that I could take the ball out by hand. I thanked her and the male piercer profusely before making my way out of the shop.
I learned a valuable lesson over the course of those two days. I potentially compromised the safety and well-being of my septum – the pride and joy of all my piercings – for maybe 30 minutes of travel time and a mere $1.50 in bus fare, which I ended up having to pay anyway to get the issue sorted out. When it comes to piercings you love, they're like your babies. Don't leave them in the care of strangers.