So, I was 13, and had begged and begged and begged my mother to get my eyebrow pierced. Her answer started off with, "No". Then it was, "When you're 18". Then it became, "When you're 16". Then, somehow it became, "When you're 15". Walking around the markets one day in Malaga, which is a fair way out from where I live, I came across The Body Piercing Place stall. Of course, this is a big no-no for me now, having done a lot of research on body modification. A small market stall is NOT a good place for piercings at all, but me being the stupid kid that I was (and, still am) didn't ever think that there could be a problem with this kind of set-up.
At A Glance Author Jaz Vengeance Contact Jaz Vengeance@bme.anon IAM Jaz Vengeance When Two years ago Artist ? Studio The Body Piercing Place Location Malaga markets, Perth. Back to the story. I'd already lost my mom in the markets, so I stood around looking at the jewelry in the case, and asking questions about different piercings. I guess my mom had sensed that her daughter was thinking about doing something that she had not given her consent to, and believe it or not, I found her standing behind me when I turned around. I told her excitedly, "I don't even need an appointment. It's safe. The lady will even tell you about the procedure and stuff... can I get my eyebrow pierced?!". I don't even remember the look on her face, but in words I'm sure it was equivalent to something along the lines of, "Fuck, she's not giving up on this one." And so a decision was made. I was to get my eyebrow pierced that day. The ground rule was, "Don't ever ask to get anything done [pierced] ever again!" but alas 3 years down the track I have had 2 other piercings (nose and helix), a tattoo and have stretched my right lobe to 5mm.
Anyhow, as it was, I hadn't eaten anything all day, and the lady behind the counter told me it was sensible to eat and drink so that I wasn't dehydrated and such, and told me to come back in about 20 minutes or so. We walked over to the food court, and with my stomach doing flip-flops; I managed to get some Chinese food down. My mom was looking a bit neutral, as if she was having an inner struggle about letting me go through with it, but thankfully (or so I thought at the time) she let me get it done.
Back to the piercing stall, I picked out a captive bead ring (as I was told that a barbell would be a bad choice, swelling etc) and was taken into the back room. It was small, but looked clean and sterile-ish. I don't remember much about the actual piercing procedure, but I do remember the woman using an alcohol swab to clean up the area. I wasn't watching her get the needle and jewelry etc, so for all I know, it could have been a used needle, and jewelry that hadn't been autoclaved. I don't even remember her using a clamp, or talking to me during the whole time. She dotted me up, asked if the positioning was okay, and then through went the needle. At the time I thought it hurt, (although considerably less than my helix, which I got when I was 12, RIP, and less than my ear stretching which was recent). I was happy. Very happy. But when my mom saw, she was noticeably disgusted. After I'd paid and we were in the car on the way home, she could hardly bare the sight of it. "It l ooks gross!" she had said, but that was about it.
I cleaned it regularly with salt soaks for about a week or so. Then about 2 weeks later, inevitable infection set in. (Inevitable because I had touched it and played with it, and it had been touched by other people). It hadn't had a chance to heal properly, as I had to tape it back for work, and looking back, I suppose the fistula never got a chance to strengthen. The infection, according to me, wasn't so bad, although my mom thought otherwise. After a trip to the doctors, I was put onto antibiotics and hoped they would help.
They didn't. My whole eyebrow became a gunky, inflamed mess with green pus oozing out of it, and of course, with me being 13 and still growing, as well as not giving it proper aftercare, it started rejecting. At the time, I was unaware of what this meant, and never thought of going to another piercing place to get some help. It started bleeding and oozing green pus frequently, but I didn't want to give up just yet. So I left it longer, giving it salt soaks and trying not to touch it. Eventually, after numerous failed attempts at "saving it", I decided to take it out. My mom knew I'd be upset, and I think she knew I had to make the decision for myself. Being a pressure ring, I went back to The Body Piercing Place (the main studio in Leederville) and had to have it taken out. The woman there didn't even tell me what was wrong with it (as at this time, I had no idea about rejection of migration, I just thought it was a horrible infection), instead just taking the ring out and g iving it to me. I was pretty fricken sad about it. Years of begging, and I'd fucked up the whole thing. I got back in the car, almost in tears, and looked at the 2 holes where my short-lived wonder had been.
Now, nearly 3 years later, I can see the tiny scar from the initial placement, and then more scarring where it had rejected. Let that be a lesson to people wanting to get a surface piercing like this. Wait until you've finished growing, and make sure you give your piercing proper aftercare. A gunky, inflamed hole in your eyebrow that oozes green pus is NEVER attractive. RIP.