D.I.Y Scarification Experience. (The begining of my own being my own person.)
Ever since I was little, it was drilled into my naive brain that piercing and tattoos were disgusting and trashy, so, of course I believed it. Any time I saw a piercing, I'd think, "Ew. That's sick." Especially say, nose piercing. The same went with tattoos. I always thought they were stupid and ugly.
A few years later, I went to middle school. Yep, as most would tell you, it changes your views on everything. Many girls we're "Goth" and scene they wore black dresses with red bows. I thought they were ugly and stupid, but then after listening to some music, seeing some pictures, opening my mind, I realized they're just people. (I know it sounds like I'm saying they're a different race or something. I guess that's just how I viewed it back then.) I learned to love their hair, their dark makeup, and beautiful, OUT THERE clothing. But along with opening my mind to different people, I opened my mind to piercings and tattoos. But I still said "Well, I'll never get one!" Little did I know..
Fast forward a year and a half. I was only ten when I was in 7th grade, eleven the day that 8th grade began. I stayed at my current middle/high school for about half a semester, then I went into home school cause I couldn't take my school anymore. After home school, I skipped the rest of 8th grade, and went right into 9th at a brand new school that had just opened that year. There were people with tattoos and piercings all over the place, and there were only 50 people there. That opened me up even more, and I became very interested, but still not enough to research, or to get either.
Fast forward another two and a half or so years, and it's 10th grade, just a few months before summer vacation. My dad sadly has cancer, and my mom is totally stressed out, leaving me having a really hard time at home. Mom yells at me all the time, and dad isn't doing well at all. Eventually, he goes under, and I'm spending most of my time at my friend Ann's house. My dad is at the hospital, and I can't deal with it. Ann and I stay up all night quite a few times, and we found BME.com, out of boredom. I looked up a few tattoos, piercings, etc. It was actually quite interesting, and I really liked it. Finally, I stumbled across scarification. I liked that too, and it looked absolutely amazing.
We looked, well, I looked at many piercings, but the scarring stayed with me. I hate to use the word eventually, but, eventually, my dad died in hospice, and I was called home from school that day. I cried, and immediately went on the internet to calm my mind. I looked up more stories. I wanted a tattoo, or piercings, many piercings, so badly it hurt. I now knew many ways to self pierce, but I didn't want to do anything wrong, so I held off. I brought up the matter to my mom, and of course, she was totally against it, telling me it was disgusting and trashy. So, that was a given NO.
That whole situation opened the door to the world of piercing and tattooing.
Another year, and I'm in 11th grade, age 15. The need for a tattoo, piercing, or scar was even worse than ever. I had found the band Hollywood Undead a few months earlier, and immediately fell in love. They were amazing people in general, their music was wonderful, the guys were sexy, and I could completely relate to almost EVERY one of the songs. After quite a bit of thought, I had eight tattoos revolving around Hollywood Undead planned out. But I just couldn't wait.
After reading almost all of the "D.I.Y. Scarification" stories, I decided I'd do it myself.
Besides the fact I thought it was absolutly amazing, it felt like it was a way to show that I am my own person, and my body is my art canvas, that I can tweak and perfect to my liking.
I decided on a day, which was that day, haha, and tried it (big mistake) on my arm with a safety pin. I put HU4L (Hollywood Undead 4 Life) on my forearm, in a horribly visible spot. I cut extremely deep, and began to bleed almost straight away. I cleaned it off, and put on a sweatshirt.
Then, I decided I'd do it again somewhere else, less visible. I thought about placement, tools, everything. I decided on my leg, under my knee, just to my left. At about noon, I stole a bottle of Rubbing Alcohol from the upstairs bathroom, along with a lot of cotton pads. I grabbed a glass from the kitchen, and some foil, and some paper towels. I headed back downstairs to my 'dungeon' (I 'own' the basement. It's like a little apartment.) and holed up in my bedroom. I scrubbed it top to bottom, and laid out my supplies. Then, I ran around the downstairs finding all sorts of sharp objects. I found a razor blade, sewing-machine needle (it has a thicker base, and extremely sharp point, sharper than a plain sewing needle.), and safety pin. I poured an entire glass of rubbing alcohol, and dropped my tools into it, to disinfect. Maybe not the best idea to put them all in the same glass, but it's way too late for that.)
I waited patiently all day, and finally, at about 8:30 at night, when my mom was sound asleep, I headed downstairs.
I opened up my laptop, and went on Facebook, and Bmezine.com, as a distraction. I put in my Hollywood Undead, Desperate Measures DVD, and went to work. I pulled off my pants, put on some shorts, and disinfected my leg. Washed my hands at least three times, and got my tools out of the Alcohol.
Well, I decided on a Funny Man mask. I traced a bottle cap onto my leg with ballpoint ink, tapped it with R.A again, and started. I picked up the safety pin, and scratched at my leg. It didn't really hurt, but I wasn't going deep enough in the slightest. So, I grabbed the needle, and went for it. I cut deeper and deeper. The hardest part was the small triangle of small circles underneath his right eye.
It wasn't bleeding as much as people who have done it themselves said, so I grabbed the razor blade, and went deep. I was talking to many people during this, and two out of about seven asked to see pictures. The rest thought I was stupid and didn't want to see it.
Finally, I decided I was done, and poured rubbing alcohol on it, and scoured it with a toothbrush. I tried to bandage it, but I couldn't walk with it on. So, I went without. It didn't hurt at all, pretty much.
The next morning, I looked to see if it had scabbed, and it hadn't. Well, it did, but it was a very thin scab. Nonetheless, I scoured it with the toothbrush, and disinfected it with more R.A. I went to school, in pain. I had a limp, and the HU4L scabbed tremendously, so I couldn't roll up my sleeves past my wrist.
Two days later, HU4L and the mask had scabbed nicely, and I picked at them a lot. But I wanted more. So I traced out a star on my wrist, and dug in. My excuse for this, because I didn't want to wear wristbands, or not be able to roll my sleeves up, was I slept on a sharp wire-earring, and it sliced my arm. Everyone accept my boyfriend believed me.
Another three weeks later, I'm in the shower, and I look down, and the mask looks purple. I shrug, thinking it's my eyes, as hot water makes me dizzy, and distorts my vision, so. When I get out of my shower, I put my foot on the sink, and it is purple, and all the scabs are white, and falling off. I grabbed a toothbrush, and got all of the scabs off. I suppose the scar itself is going to be fairly dark, because it's lightened a little, but it is fairly dark. There's only a very small portion of the mask that's still scabbed over, and the HU4L is almost totally healed.
And so, this is the begining of becoming myself.
I'm sorry if I've totally and completely bored you to death, but that's my D.I.Y scarification experience, and I plan on getting it done professionally next time.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 29 Dec. 2009