First off, let me tell you that I'm a mother of two, married for 13 years, and in my 30s. Those who know me know darn well that I'm far from conservative, but to look at me, you'd hardly guess.
At A Glance Author Gloria Contact Gloria@bme.anon Artist Jesse Studio Wicked Location Berkeley, CA My genital piercing is actually my poor, shocked husband's fault, in a backhanded way. He's four years older than me, and suddenly expressed a desire to get a tattoo. This, coming out of the blue, caught me waaay off guard, and I enthusiastically encouraged him to go for it. But being a former journalist, I was going to research the heck out of it before he went under the needle.
Which is what led me to BME (via yahoo). Thank God for the web! We moved out to the country last year from the Bay Area, and although leaving the city behind is one of the best things I've ever done, it is incredibly isolating.
So I kept showing my husband all kinds and styles of tattoo art I'd found on the web, but nothing really turned him on (still haven't found an artist with the kind of style he envisions). I started exploring BME, and was so surprised to find that I was excited by the genital piercings I saw. Facial/navel/tongue/cartilage piercings look wonderful on other people, I think, but I don't find anything pleasing about envisioning them on me. But the genital piercings were another story.
I can't say I'd ever really considered genital piercings before. I guess if I did, it was in the way-extreme category; I never really thought about the fact that studios that routinely did tongues and navels were just as routinely doing P.A.s and hoods.
The inner labia photos, in particular, really rang my bell. I've never really felt that my pussy was particularly attractive; I'm a great fan of pussies and have a definite preference as to what I think is sexy. To me, mine isn't. My left inner labia is markedly longer than my right; it's been this way since puberty and I can't figure out why -- it's not like I pulled on it or stretched it or anything. Just is.
So it hit me pretty much right away that I'd like to get two CBRs put into my big left labia. I guess it's a huge aesthetic boost for me, and getting well into my 30s and after two kids, I haven't been feeling particularly sexy about my body. My husband simply said "it's your body," but I suspect he truly didn't think I'd go through with it.
As I said, we left the Bay Area behind last year after both growing up there. Since my family and friends are all there, I make the three-hour drive every now and again to visit, and I figured that I'd make a special trip with my husband into San Francisco and visit a piercing shop there. He'd already agreed to come hold my hand.
Also thanks to the web, I'd found some jewelry I'd fallen in love with (10g 5/16 flat-tipped CBRs) at Body Circle Designs. I ordered them immediately and began counting the days until they arrived in the mail. When they did come, I nearly came with delight when I first laid eyes on them and thought about them dangling from my labia.
Here's my main bit of advice: Don't buy your initial jewelry first. Piercings are largely anatomy-driven; that is, only an experienced piercer can really tell you proper length/diameter for your body. It turned out that my beloved rings were too small; I required a 7/16 ring for this piercing.
I knew I'd be driving down to the Bay Area to visit my mom on Sept. 24, and I debated the idea of bring my rings with me and getting pierced right then. I waffled mightily. Finally, 5 minutes before walking out the door, I grabbed my rings and slid them into the pocket of my jeans.
Just knowing they were along for the ride kept me wet and happy for the three-hour trip. As soon as my visit was over, I bolted from my mom's house, jumped into the car, and drove to Berkeley, figuring there must be a bunch of piercing places on Telegraph Avenue up near the university. Don't do what I did; I got very lucky that the first place I saw was reputable and great. Check out several shops first -- this is too big a step, particularly for genital piercings, to leave to chance.
Wicked is a piercing/tattoo shop located inside an upscale clothing store; the loft is occupied by a head shop. My kind of place!
I was immediately aware of being the oldest and most conservative-looking person in the entire building when I got there; I tried not to be too self-conscious, but when surrounded by barely-18-year-old girls looking to get their perfectly flat and taut navels or amazingly perky nipples pierced, this baggy old mom felt ancient and out of place.
Fortunately, the young man behind the counter didn't seem to care. We had a great conversation, and as I asked questions, he admitted the shop didn't do too much in the way of genital piercings; the piercer, Jesse, had plenty of experience doing them, but the shop itself seemed to be frequented more by the tongue/navel college crowd.
So that made me kind of an instant celebrity, particularly when I announced I wanted not one, but TWO inner labias done on the same side. I got a delicious grin from the guy behind the counter that almost made ME feel 18!
After the usual formalities, Jesse, the piercer, came out of his booth, looked at my beloved rings I had handed over, and said he needed to check me out to make sure the jewelry was the right size. Now, I love all the stories on BME; I've read tons of them, and I'm always amused by the women who are more worried about dropping their drawers than about the needle. As I said, I've had two kids, and after you've given birth once, It's really hard to be too worried about showing your vagina to a total stranger! So I doffed the jeans, climbed up into the big white chair, and he began to check me out with his hands and some calipers. After measuring and fiddling, my heart sank when he said my rings were too small a diameter for me. So I got redressed and picked out some CBRs from the shop's stock, which they gave me for free, and sat down to wait my turn.
That's when I started sweating bullets. The sweat just poured off of me; no one else in the shop looked hot, but I was drenched. Other than that, I tried to play it cool and chatted with the counter guy about his recent P.A.
It was my turn. I went into the booth with Jesse and he prepped his instruments while I dropped 'em again and climbed into the chair. For some reason, I blurted, "but I'm a PTA mom with two kids!" He looked over at me and grinned. "I have two kids too," he said.
He cleaned me, marked me, clamped me (which I didn't feel one bit) and picked up the first 10-gauge needle. I concentrated on breathing deeply and stared at the pictures on the ceiling. I felt a sharp, burning pain that lasted several seconds as the needle went through. There was no pain when he inserted the ring and put the bead in place.
Time for round two. "Ready?" he asked, and I nodded. Clamp on, needle in. OHMYGOD, I thought over and over as I whimpered and dug my nails into my thighs. That one definitely hurt a hell of a lot worse that the first, for some reason. In went the ring, and Jesse spent a few minutes trying to get the first hole to stop bleeding. Since I'd done this on the spur of the moment, I hadn't though to bring a pad.
The pain immediately lessened to a dull throb, and I got dressed, tipped Jesse and left. The three-hour drive home wasn't bad at all, and there was about a fair amount of blood in my undies when I got home. I bled overnight, staining the sheets (damn!) but stopped in the morning.
That was yesterday. I only feel mildly bruised, and I absolutely LOVE my rings. The best is feeling the weight and swinging sensation when I walk, and hearing them clink and tinkle when they knock against each other. It's without a doubt the sexiest thing I could imagine.
My husband doesn't seem to care one way or another. He's seen them from a distance, but hasn't yet asked to see them close up. That's OK with me. I didn't do it for him. I did it for me.
BTW, I just logged off Body Circle's web site, where I ordered myself a new set of rings with hematite beads in the proper 7/16 size. As soon as I'm healed, I'll head over to a piercing shop and have them put in.
And I've decided I'm going to get a vertical hood as soon as I'm healed. Oh God, am I already addicted????