After the typical BME-trolling that it takes to fall deeply in a love with a piercing, I quickly realized that a Monroe WAS the piercing I needed to make my face (temporarily) perfect.
At A Glance Author Stardust Contact Stardust@bme.anon When It just happened Artist Sailor Cher Studio Deborah's Fountain of Youth Tattoo Location St. Augustine, Florida Unlike most fourteen-year-old girls, I have a dad who may not agree with my out-there sense of aesthetic, but he also believes that I have a better handle on what I really, truly want, and when I told him I was thinking of getting a facial piercing, he (admirably) only winced a few times as I outlined my choices.
He thought I'd look cute with a little stud in my nose, which I agreed with (and still do), but that wasn't quite what I wanted for my first piercing. I'd been drawn in by Monroes for a while, now, and I decided to shoot for it.
Skip ahead a few weeks, as my fifteenth birthday came closer and closer to pass. On Thursday, November 9th, I had to go to court for a crime I'd committed in the past (no, I certainly am not proud). To my dad's complete surprise, and mine I was completely liberated from the court and was, completely, utterly free.
Walking back to the car, I was tentatively bringing up a way to celebrate: to pierce my face, of course.
My dad considered it, and said, because my birthday would be on Sunday, we might as well, if I was sure that I really wanted it.
Oy, Papi. I wanted this bitch.
We were actually on our way to get the form notarized (in Florida, you have to have a notarized parental consent form if you're under eighteen to get pierced), when I quickly realized I was a petty ten dollars away from my facial art. Heartbroken that I would have to wait, we returned home.
Friday, the piercer wasn't going to be in. Okay, I said, when would she be in? Saturday from twelve to nine, and Sunday from twelve to six. Okay, I responded, sounds good. We'll be there Saturday.
Cue what was the most emotional roller coaster, heartbreaker day of my life.
Being Veteran's Day, as well as Saturday, the banks we intended to try for notarizing the form were all closed. It was, to my mind, completely sick that the tattoo parlor (Ms. Deborah's Fountain of Youth Tattoo, since I haven't mentioned) should open at twelve....right when the bank closed. Ordinarily, I wouldn't care, but I'd lost my consent form and we needed a new one to be notarized, blah blah blah...basically, cue a panic attack where I spent the majority of the day calling myself a failure and a disappointment for losing the goddamn form.
My dad and I must have spent four hours, literally, in that velvet-lined sauna of a car, trundling up and down the roads looking for a notary.
Finally, we got into an argument where I told him to simply take me home. I was beaten down by this, at least enough for one day- SO many times we'd come within the proverbial inch of getting the signature.
Instead, he took me to my older brother's. I talked to him and his kickass friends for a while, and they pointed out a travel agency two minutes away from their house where there was a notary- AND the place was open.
Of course when we get there, the notary was gone, but the lady promised to call him, we left to get food, at came back at 4 PM.
Thank God, he was there.
After achieving the important victory of a notarized form, we headed to the tattoo parlor.
Big Letdown Number Two: The piercer wasn't in.
I fumed all the way back to the car, but they'd promised that she would be in Sunday, my actual birthday. Okay, okay, one more day.
Sunday morning, I woke up excited. I got dressed, threw my money, ID, and form into my bag, and drove with my dad to the parlor.
And lo, she was in! And god, she was definitely something: Late forties, skinhead (as in shaved, not backyard-Nazi-law-enforcement), with a labret, double-pierced nostrils, and a cowboy hat. This was my piercer, Sailor Cher.
I filled out the necessary forms and followed her back.
She was definitely helpful for me. I had been sick all the previous weekend (I still have no idea why, but it made me massively puke at three in the morning and be nauseous almost constantly), so the tremors in my stomach were being accelerated by the new, slight tints of anxiety.
"Some piercing music!" She said, flicked on a stereo. The best possible sound rolled out: good old Ludwig van, filling the room with amazing sounds. I am an enormous Beethoven fan, sparked by being an enormous Clockwork Orange fan, and with those considered, the idea of my face being lanced with a needle to the violence-inspiring sounds of Ludwig van....well. It stopped the stomach tremor, that's for damn sure.
She washed her hands and showed me everything. She explained the aftercare to me beforehand, and then brought out the sight of something that I think every modified person is delighted to see- the lovely, lovely purple pen. After a little debate (I wanted my Monroe higher and further out, she and my dad thought it'd look better closer in), we finally agreed on a spot.
And you know, I was completely prepared to shriek with agony to the feel of the clamps being fitted over my skin, but it actually didn't hurt at all. Good thing; who knows if I would have backed out?
I would have been fine with having my eyes open, but she said it'd be better for my nerves if I didn't see her looming over me with a triple-beveled needle. Well, okay...I closed them.
The needle didn't hurt, so much as it felt like a light (very unpleasant) pinch. Like everybody says, it was over before I actually thought it would be. Again: good thing.
She slipped the 16-gauge post through at some point, screwed on the tiny diamond chip, and handed me the mirror.
Oh. My. God. BEAUTY.
My dad, who was prepared to despise it, actually thought it looked amazing. "And after this, we can get your nose done, and both eyebrows, your belly...and then we'll string them together with some chain, huh Janie?"
Thanks, Dad >>
That was over twenty-four hours ago. I adore it. There've been no problems as yet- it's swollen, which makes me glad for the 5/16 post, but you can't tell unless you're looking for it- hard. (I tried).
I've been cleaning it with H2Ocean after I eat, washing my hands as well as possible, so no complications in that area. There IS one issue that I feel I have to mention, though, and it has to do with the placement of the piercing. It was not an issue that Sailor Cher could have predicted, and to be honest, it's a small one that comes from where I chose to place it. I have raised canines- if only I had nice, perfect (or at least straighter) teeth, it would not be a problem, but there is an issue that if my mouth goes wide to smile or laugh, the back of the post has a tendency to slip across my gums. It's unpleasant, but it's a combination of things (placement, the long post, my teeth themselves), NOT the piercing. I would recommend this piercing to anyone: it's very chic, very sexy. I would also recommend Sailor Cher, as she makes you feel wonderful about your episode.
Just to try and be different from the many other monroe-bearing mods, let's end this with something other than a cliché:
Happy stabbing!