There should have been a photographer there when I got my nipple pierced. It was the picture of irony: sitting there in slacks, blouse and suit jacket cast off, briefcase propped against the door, directing a guy who goes by "Joey Luck" on how to touch her breasts. Needless to say, the experience was one of the most compelling elements of the modification. The full story goes as thus:
At A Glance Author Kitty Contact Kitty@bme.anon When Three months ago Artist Joey Luck Studio Liquid Carma Location Tempe, Arizona
I was at the University of Southern Arizona, at a (high school) debate tournament from out of state. During our lunch break, a few friends and I decided to try a little pizza place and, on the way over, spotted Liquid Carma. Cute. We lunched in the courtyard by the store, and as we were finishing, I spotted an incredibly handsome guy. (Wife-beater, tall, dark hair, high cheekbones -- yummy!) A friend and I sauntered over to talk and found out he was the piercist. In an attempt to look cool(er than I naturally am), I mentioned my not-so-secret long-term desire to pierce my nipple, and he told me to try it. I was probably more flattered that he wanted to see my breasts than convinced that I should modify my body. (I'm a good girl. One hole in each ear. Period.) Then, to prevent me from backing out, one of the three friends I was with said she'd like to use her recently-legal status to get a hole in her navel. We were ushered into the waiting room and spent ten agon izing minutes debating.
Okay, I spent ten agonizing minutes debating, making excuses, even asking my boyfriend for his permission. My friends and Joey laughed at me. And if it benefits anyone, here are the questions that were pulsing: 1) I'm not going to be wild forever, so what will my boring yuppie husband think when he sees my holes? 2) Is $40 worth it? 3) How badly is this going to hurt? and 4) Will my parents kill me? I had valid reason for concern. If not these questions in particular, I have to admit that I had done little to nothing to prepare for the moment. I had a vague idea of the consequences, but I didn't even know what a nipple ring looked like! Needless to say, I had no clue about gauges, barbells, clamps, and everything else. (If you're reading this, congratulations for being that much further ahead of the game! Know what you're getting into. I was lucky, but luck is a fickle friend.)
I didn't believe Joey when he claimed I was making a big deal out of this -- after all, why would he be concerned about a hole in my nipple?? Turns out, he had good enough reason. He was sweet and entirely professional, focused on making my experience as easy as possible. My friend got her navel done, and it looked painless enough. Then we came to my opening scene: me stripped down, sitting on a marginally padded table, shirtless and biting my lower lip. The needle looks huge! Fortunately, due to the miracle of the clamp, you can barely feel it. And I realize that pretty much everyone complains about the clamp, so let me say this in its defense: it's a pinch, yes, but you get used to it in a few seconds. (Well, on top of that, I'm pretty into S&M, so I found it fantastic. To be brutally honest, it was insanely hot. But again, this might just be me.) Joey told me to take a deep breath and let it out when I felt the needle go through. I averted my eyes, too k in a breath, and -- from sheer force of expectation -- screamed when the needle touched. It hurt a little, but the pain felt like an afterthought: it was gone before I had fully registered it. I blushed (screaming in public, how lame), let him clean it up, admired it for a bit, then put my shirt back on and headed right out.
It was so gorgeous I couldn't stop showing it off. It took work not to show it to my waiter that night at dinner! That night I slept braless with no problem, and continued to comfortably wear a well-fitting bra (underwire, no padding -- I'm a 40DD, so I didn't have the ability to move around, but I'd recommend for anyone else to try a padded bra, as soft fabrics are Heaven). I didn't bleed at all, in fact. The most horrific aspect of it was the (entirely natural) crust that built up between cleanings, but a quick call to my doctor confirmed that it was my wound cleaning itself out. I didn't listen especially well, though, and changed my ring after two weeks. Cuter, but I put myself back at square one. This time (thanks to a healthy little dose of bacteria I introduced), it was sore for four to five days, especially when I bumped it. (Don't pierce anything you bang frequently, except your boyfriend). But a few months later, I'm, frankly, in love. And my questions are now answered:
1) I'm wild now, but what will happen when my ring comes out? Nothing. It's not infected (and I just got one done in case something bad did happen, so as not to ruin my chance at breast-feeding -- although, after this success, I'm soon to get the other), and if I ever decide I'm done with it, then it's gone. Worst case scenario, my nipple's a little stretched out. But really, with a 40DD rack? It'll just be in proportion.
2) Was it worth $40? A million times yes. Not only did I avoid some of those nasty ooh-my-poor-newly-mangled-nips stories, but I got it done somewhere with a guarantee and by someone with whom I felt safe. The peace of mine alone is worth the asking price, so just say no to safety pins. Really.
3) How badly does it hurt? The clamp stings -- or is pleasantly erotic, depending on your point of view -- and a little soreness. That's all I experienced, after my near-tears whining. Not only that, but my sensitivity has vastly increased. Not to go into detail, but if my boyfriend want to turn me all, all he has to do is pull gently on it with his lips. Fantastic sensation. And if nothing else, beauty is pain.
4) Did my parents kill me? Well, they weren't thrilled. But my mom is secretly dying to see it, and my dad's too embarrassed to discuss. Besides, it's my rack and I love it!
Is there a moral to this story? Or an end to its rhetorical questions? Yes to both. I was half-nekkid in a piercing parlor in a town I was visiting for the weekend, pushing myself into a decision I wasn't 100% sure of. Granted, I'd do it again in a heartbeat now, but I'm more lucky than anything. Research. Don't be afraid of what it will do to you -- that should be the least of your concerns. But think about what you want, whether you want it, and who you want it done by. Then close your eyes, rip off your blouse, and go for it.