When I was a kid I can remember a friend of my brother's named Chris that lived with us. He was the first person I had ever seen with piercings. I had a natural curiosity about his facial piercings, (he had his eyebrow, tongue, and lip pierced). I always wanted to look at them up close and touch them.
At A Glance Author HoleyHell Contact HoleyHell187@aol.com When N/A Studio Gulf Coast Tattoos Location Port Arthur, Texas A few years later, another friend of my brother's, oddly enough also named Chris was another fascination for me. He had his eyebrow pierced as well as his tongue, (this Chris also had pocketing work done on his arm, but I'll save that tidbit for a future story). So anyhow, with both these Chris guys as well as those rarities in the malls, magazines, and television, my fascination/obsession with piercings grew.
My very first piercing, the one I have the most adoration for with it being my first and all, is my right eyebrow. Before I had any real idea that I would have any piercings, what with my uber-grass roots, Southern Baptist-piercings are the devil parents, I would pretend I had them by pinching my skin with hoop earrings. I graduated from that to getting captive ball rings minus the ball and clipping them onto myself. When I'd see something I would like, just like any kid, I would try out what it would look like on me. I'm not ex actually sure why I took such a liking to piercings, especially so early, but who really knows that? I was just a damned cool kid I guess.
My fascination in eighth grade finally materialized. One day I just decided it was my body and I wanted to decorate it with a piercing in my eyebrow. For about two years I guess, I was bothering my parents to let me go to a shop to get it done. They always told me "Not no, but hell no." I always tried to back up my argument that in the Bible it says that your body is a temple for God and that you should take care of it, as well as decorate it. Also, I used the Bible to illustrate the point that women from the far corners of the world had nose piercings and they were considered beautiful. I explained that getting a piercing is all in the context of how you looked at it. I saw it as a way to decorate my body, I saw it as such a beautiful thing.
Before I knew it my mom had finally given in. I piled about three or four friends into the back of our old green truck and we were on our way to the local tatt and piercing shop. I was hopping around with excitement and could barely stay low as we all lay in the bed of the truck. (It is illegal here to ride in the beds of trucks. Back then my mom just hated that we didn't have seat belts on). I remember vividly the coolness of the day as my hair whipped in the highway air. My friends kept telling me I'd be so cool with my eyebrow pierced and how everyone would talk about it. Something deep down made me not care what the kids would say. I just wanted that piercing. I wanted it more than anything I could think of.
When we finally pulled into the parking lot of the parlor, we all jumped out and I told everyone how I was feeling such a high and I couldn't wait. We looked into the parlor through the big glass window and opened the glass door. Cheap bells hit the glass door as we entered. We filed in, checking out the flash on the walls. There were couches and portfolios on tables. We went straight to the desk where a lady asked if she could help me. I told her I wanted my eyebrow pierced and she looked at me with a smile and asked if I brought a parent. My mom pulled out her license and we both signed a paper giving permission for me to be pierced.
My friends chickened out at the last minute and did not want to watch me actually get pierced. My mom didn't even want to watch, but it wasn't about having someone hold my hand. Screw my hand, I wanted my piercing. The piercer, Shorty I think was his name, showed me to a bench where I sat down. He washed his hands with this antibacterial soap, dried them and put on his gloves. He got out his tools. I thought I was going to pee on myself I was so excited. He had me lay back and had me pick which one eyebrow I wanted pierced. I picked my right one, naturally being right-handed. He cleaned around it and marked two dots with a purple marker. We decided the placement was good and straight and I laid back. He then positioned his arms over me as I laid there and he said, "Ready?", I said "Oh yeah." He then pierced me. It was so quick and I felt a weird sensation come over me, (another thing for another story). He had me hold still and then he slipped a small curved barbell through my fresh hole.
A smile spread across my face and I knew it was beautiful even before I looked at it. When I finally looked at it in the mirror, he asked if I liked it. I replied, "I love it. It's so cool." As I looked at myself and my new piercing, I read a sticker on the mirror, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me." I knew then I had turned a page in the book that would be my life. We settled the payment, (my money, I never had my parents pay for any of my piercings), and I said goodbye to my piercer.
We left the shop and I felt like I was floating. A happiness I had never known before was glazed across my soul. I was reborn then into a life that would take me to heights I'd never as yet known. I went to school the next day after a night of Epsom salts dissolved with warm water in paper Dixie cups and Q-Tips. I had four weeks, a whole month, left of eighth grade and wore a circular band aid over my eyebrow, jewelry and all. Of course I took it off whenever I could. I must've gone through a million of those damned band aids.
My piercing was my own and I loved it. I still love it. Today it is, of course, completely healed and beautiful as always.