One of the things I thought I would never do was get a hood piercing. I was not going to let a stranger see me naked. There have been at most fifteen people in the world who have done so, at least a third being doctors, another third being family, and three more while I was thoroughly under the influence. The fourteenth is my boyfriend, and now, the fifteenth, is my piercer, Mark. He has done eight of my ten piercings, with many more to come, and I am very glad that I trusted him enough to let him pierce my hood.
At A Glance Author popecatapetal Contact popecatapetal@bme.anon IAM popecatapetal When A month ago Artist Mark Studio V Piercings Location Dublin, Ireland How I came to get this most intimate of piercings is not the longest of stories, but one that, for me, was a huge step forward in accepting my body. I have never been confident about how I look. My first piercing (left nostril) was an enormous help – I felt beautiful for weeks after that. More piercings followed, and the same feeling came with them, but they were mostly short term solutions. They were jewellery, covering over how I actually felt. Yes, it was wonderful to be happy about myself, but to truly get over my issues with myself, I would have to face my fears.
During the summer, my friend announced that she was getting a VCH. I mentioned it to my boyfriend, and he responded with enthusiasm that I should get one too. I reacted with what was almost horror. I wanted nothing less than to expose myself to someone, even in the name of beauty. Over the next few months, he brought it up a few more times, and I slowly came to realise that I there was no good reason for my fear of people seeing me naked. I worked up my courage to get my nipples pierced soon after that, and the rush I got was more than the usual one of feeling beautiful – I also felt a little bit healed. The simple act of taking my top off in front of someone I was not intimate with had made me more relaxed in my own skin.
But I was not cured yet. The idea of showing anyone the other half of myself still made me quite nervous. I knew, however, that if I wanted to fully accept myself, I would have to do it. So, almost a month ago, I called Mark and made an appointment to come in and get a vertical hood piercing.
For the next few days, any time I thought of the appointment, my stomach twisted itself into knots. Finally, the day arrived, and I made my way in to the studio. Mark was ready and waiting, and didn't mind at all that my signature on the consent form was almost illegible due to my hands shaking. He brought me down to the piercing room, where his apprentice had already laid out his tools, and wiped down the bed with sterilizer. I climbed out of my pants and thanked my lucky stars that my jumper was long enough to give me some semblance of modesty.
Mark was very reassuring. He told me horror stories of piercing wrinkly old ball sacs and friends' PA piercings, which distracted me while he wiped my nether regions down with alcohol (a very disconcerting feeling, having an alcohol wipe under your hood). I stared up at the ceiling while he positioned the needle and started breathing deeply. On the second breath out, the needle went through, and I realized it was a good thing that I had been too nervous about being naked to worry about the pain involved – it was quite intense. I cursed loudly, which made Mark laugh, and then my endorphins rushed and I started to giggle too.
Some more fiddling about occurred, and then he inserted the longer of the two curved barbells he had laid out. It turned out to be too small, and he had to get a longer one from his cabinet. A glove change or two later and he was back with his head between my legs. The jewellery change was just as painful as the original piercing, although in a different, more dragging, way. I rebuked him for not having warned me, he apologised, and then I scooted down to the end of the bed to admire my shiny new balls.
Some aftercare advice later, and we went upstairs (not as interesting experience as some would like you to believe, by the way). On the way home, I realised that I had just spent a good fifteen minutes with someone foostering with my genitals, and after the first two minutes, I hadn't minded much at all!
I'm not saying I'm cured yet – I still worry about how people view me, and I can't wear tight clothes out and about. But I am more comfortable about how I feel about myself, and I'm finally confident enough to exercise in public.
So I'm not going to say that this is the piercing that changed my life. I'll just that it made the way I view life a little better.