Okay, so I'm either incredibly brave or just extremely stupid- I'm not sure which one. I'll leave that interpretation up to you, dear reader. Lying in a long, cold, white piercer's chair, legs akimbo and pink bits exposed to the small audience (my piercer, his apprentice and the camera that records the procedure on a purely faceless level.) I'm staring at a black spot on the ceiling in a vain attempt to quash my mild embarrassment. Ah, exposure, the unspoken pain of genital piercing. I know the artist performing the procedure and I feel a touch odd, revealing a whole new side of myself.
At A Glance Author badmolly Contact badmolly@bme.anon When Three months ago Artist Dave Matthews Studio Urban Steel Location Glebe, Australia "Pah!" He says. "I'm a professional."
I'm booked in today for a double labial piercing, my second and third genital piercing respectively and the first stage of a three part production- I'm hoping to eventually have six of these babies poked through my privates, making the grand total seven. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, however. Before I can contemplate the big picture I must begin small. I have picked out my jewelry previously- two tiny surgical steel captive ball rings, so thankfully that is of no concern today. Instead my focus centers solely on the skewering process. From my spread eagled position in the chair I watch my piercer prepare. He shows me each article as he unwraps it from its Autoclave cocoon, to assure me of its cleanliness.
"These are the clamps"
I nod.
"These are the pieces of jewelry."
Another nod. He peels open two sterile single-use needles.
"These are the needles I'll be using."
I gulp, nod and stare at the sixteen gauge instruments, each sheathed in plastic canulas for the easy insertion of my jewelry when the time comes. In my slightly agitated, heightened state of mind they appear disproportionately massive. The butterflies I've held at bay all day are suddenly released from the screw-top jar deep within my guts. Their quick wings beat against my stomach.
My artist marks the two spots with a blue surgical marker and hands me a mirror to check the placement- perfect. The butterflies now morph into bats, tiny blood-sucking _______ that gnaw at my insides and I swear to myself that no, I will NOT throw up, chicken out or punch my piercer in the face and run away.
He places the clamps in position and rests the needle against the marked spot.
"I'll count to three," He says. "On two take a deep breath and on three breathe out." I brace myself.
"One."
"Two." I breathe in.
"Three." I blow out hard. The needle pushes through my soft flesh quickly, like a knife through softened butter.
I'm not one of those hard-asses who insists- "No, it doesn't hurt!" It's a big needle through my girly bits, one of the most sensitive parts of the human anatomy- of course it bloody hurts. In fact my whole body jolts from the hips as it penetrates my flesh.
"Sorry." I tell my skewerer.
"Happens all the time." He replies.
After removing the needle, slipping the jewelry through the canula and fastening it (with some difficulty, due to its tiny size) into my body, he sets me up for the second. This is my first experience getting two piercings in one sitting, and yes, it is as difficult and terrifying as it sounds.
"I'm not too sure about this." I say, riding the swell of endorphins up and then down. "I know we said two but..."
He grins. "You can't back out now, everything is all set up." The apprentice nods in agreement. "How about I just set this up and when you are ready you can tell me?"
I nod and he clamps me. The sharp point of the needle presses against my skin.
I wait a long minute.
"Fuck it." I say. "Just do it." He begins the countdown.
One. (Oh shit.)
Two. (Breathe in.)
Three. (Breathe out.)
Jolt.
Ouch.
The second is much more difficult than the first, as this time, I know what to expect. With the jewelry in place I am handed a mirror to finally take my first glimpse of the shiny rings embedded in my bits. They sparkle silver amongst the blood. (I'm being brutally truthful here; it does bleed a great deal.) Apart from a slight throb of discomfort I feel nothing except pure satisfaction, and I am glad that I was brave enough to go through with it. In fact, I feel so marvelous afterward that I join some friends for coffee at the café down the road and delight in telling them about my afternoon.
They heal with no problems, in about two weeks. I clean them with saline solution, practice abstinence and pretty much just leave them alone. The only problem I have is working up the courage to get more done, but how easily the mind forgets the pain...