4 May 2004
Go Ahead, Stab Me!
Returning from a vacation makes me feel fresh and new, and that's a good time for more new stuff. For a long time, I'd been meaning to get my ear-piercings revamped; my jewelry was all mismatched, and I had a conch piercing on the right ear but not on the left. I prefer symmetry. And since my birthday is approaching and I have the day off, this seemed like a great time to treat myself to some new body-decor.
Body Manipulations is widely regarded as one of the very best piercing shops around. They only buy the highest-quality jewelry and hire badass piercers. Today I was in luck: white gold captive bead rings were half price, making them marginally affordable. Yes, it was time to ditch the cheap stainless steel and buy something nice! I picked out three pairs with the help of Eldo, the metals expert at the front counter.
"You're lucky, Renzo will be piercing you today," Eldo told me, pulling out a portfolio full of sharp photographs of beautiful, complex piercings: double industrials interlocking with tragus rings, triple navels, configurations I'd never have imagined, all of them perfectly placed and healed. "We saw his portfolio and hired Renzo on the spot, out of North Carolina," said Eldo.
It was my turn, and Renzo turned out to be a sexy Central American boy with dreadlocks, gorgeous tattoos, and a perfectionist streak. He's also a fine salesman and he buttered me up right away: "You have beautiful ears.... Wow, you picked the white gold, it's such a pleasure to work with really fine jewelry. This is going to look great with your red hair!" I smirked while he deftly swapped my five existing pieces for the new ones.
"You're very relaxed," he whispered.
"No I'm not. See? My feet are wiggling! I'm anticipating the pain."
"That's the best part. The anticipation."
I still needed a new hole in my left ear. It was time to lie back and take a deep breath. Renzo had my ear firmly between his fingers and instructed me to exhale slowly, slowly. The needle slipped easily through the cartilage with a soft snap sound, painfully elegant.
Without thinking, I sighed, "Oh! Yeah," then clapped my mouth shut, embarassed. Isn't that a great example of feminine conditioning against expressing sensual pleasure? I didn't want him to know I enjoyed it, because that would make me a bad woman! Apparently I'm not as liberated as I like to think I am.
On the bus ride home, my fresh wound began to burn with a sharp ache. I felt proud: I had paid a hot boy to skewer me with metal, and I didn't even wince! I am FIERCE! An old Asian woman was sitting next to me, and soon I noticed that she was crying. I peered shyly at her and she smiled wistfully. As I reached my stop, I squeezed her arm. She took my hand, smiled more brightly at me, and said something I couldn't understand that seemed to mean, "Thank you, I'll be all right." You and me both, sister!
It had been three years since my last piercing. I'd forgotten how thrilling it is, how it unleashes a torrid flood of adrenalin. It's a harmless little thrill, like roller coasters or skydiving, only you get to walk away with lovely new ornaments. The burning ache has subsided, the redness has faded, and I shake my head to hear my new rings go plink plink.