Back in July, I wrote the initial experience of getting my triangle pierced. While my piercer had some experience with the piercing, and it seemed I was anatomically suited for it, I had to remove it after 3 days. (read it if you'd like the story) Here is the continuation:
At A Glance Author astrosnik Contact astrosnik@bme.anon IAM astrosnik When Six months ago Artist Chuck Studio Lucky Devil Location Capitol Hill, Seattle WA After removing my triangle, I was distraught. Not only was it the first piercing I removed, but the most personal one, being where it was. Frustration over the experience- and not knowing why it failed- had me depressed and considering that maybe I wasn't cut out for this whole "modification" thing. Literally crying on the phone to my boyfriend, I wondered why I was being such an overdramatic dork. How could one piece of jewelry mean so much? After frustrating the few people I'd chosen to confide in, I wrote up the experience, hoping someone else could learn, or suggest. As well as myself. I was shocked to receive a couple messages from reviewers, expressing their sympathy, and the hope that I'd pass on whatever I chose to do. This is why I love this community. Squik. ^__^
Empowered, I reminded myself that the loss was important because I deigned it so, and that it was okay! My patient but likely frustrated boyfriend finally suggested, why didn't I just go get something else pierced already? A week later I had both nipples pierced (but that's another experience). Facing up to my mistake and admitting the decision I made to retire the piercing was extremely difficult. But rather than run away (to another studio) I faced Chuck again, had another great experience, and vowed to try again in a month.
Three weeks later I returned, determined to make this piercing work. I re-read all the bme experiences, stalked the writers' IAM pages where available, and took 5 days off work. Maybe, I theorized, too much activity had made the first attempt fail. Again donned in a skirt and cheerfully striped socks (amongst other clothes!) I handed over that same 12g circular barbell to be sterilized. I'd almost considered getting a new piece, as a sort of anti-jinx, but decided against it. I would make this work (and without spending excess money because of a superstition). As we set up, Chuck reminded me that the process would be exactly the same. I stared determinedly at the fanciful poster on the wall, and then laid down and jammed my heels into the stirrups. The familiar view of the Wild Things' toes came into view, both comforting and intimidating. Chuck reminded me to breathe. Such an inate instinct, and yet so important to be reminded of. I consciously forced shakey long breaths, held them, and then breathed out. I concentrated on keeping my feet wedged in the stirrups, determined not to kick her this time! And suddenly, a quick forceful jab of the needle, and my left knee spasmed outward. (at least it was the other leg!) And a sudden flood of calmness, as Chuck smoothly slid the jewelry through and tightened the balls. I sat up slowly and used the proferred mirror. Yes, just as I remembered. :) A beautiful shiny just where it belonged. We made small talk as I adjusted my clothing, ate a hard candy, and assured her that no, there was no noticeable difference due to any scar tissue.
After paying (and tipping!) I walked gingerly out, and made my way downtown to catch the busses home. Along the way I called my boyfriend and gibbered in that adrenaline-high that follows piercing. He just laughed, happy that I was.
Upon returning home, I quickly bagged shaved ice to help reduce the swelling. (it was a warm august day, after all!) I took a couple quick photos, and then spent the next 4 days bored to tears (once I finished reading the latest Harry Potter book), lying with my hips resting on pillows as often as possible. Not great for the sinuses! Hourly I would sit up in a panic, yank back the blanket and any clothes, to search for signs of unstoppable bleeding. But a little spotting (though more than the first time) was all that ever appeared. After my long weekend I returned to work, armed with an industrial-size pad in my underwear and a cowboy waddle. It took several weeks before the panic resolved, and I stopped obsessively checking for bleeding. But I had done it.
And five months later, I performed the first stretch, bringing it to a 10g. Armed with a taper and new barbell from bme, I lubed it up and slowly but surely slid it through. I resolved that I would not be afraid of this piercing. On the eve of stretching again, after two additional "girly piercings", I'm confident to say that I no longer am.