The first piercing, the first stretch.
My interest in body modification started a little later than for others. I had never had so much as an ear piercing. Throughout high school, while others were getting their lips, noses, eyebrows and unmentionables pierced, I was content to finish life with the same amount of holes that I started with. I stayed uninterested for a long time, actually. Even tattoos, usually a staple of the white, middle class male, didn't hold a whole lot of appeal for me. I saw my buddies getting their generic flash tribal design tattoos and all I could think was, "Wow, you're kind of tacky, huh?" That changed about a year ago, for no real explicable reason, really. I saw a picture of someone with lobes stretched to 0 gauge and I suddenly thought to myself, "That's kind of cool, actually." I was determined to get there myself, eventually. At the time, I was in the military, where guys aren't allowed to have any piercings, much less stretched lobes. When I got out of the Army last winter, I came home with a wild hare up my ass. I wanted some individuality back. I wanted to grow my hair out, to get piercings and tattoos and for the love of God to never shave my head again. I didn't start out immediately, though. The life of a kid coming home from the military is a confusing one, filled with reorienting yourself to civilian life, to reintroducing yourself to old friends, and trying to find a job when your only real marketable skill is "Shooting people in the face." When I got settled, though, my desire for all those other things was reignited. I started small. With the aid of a friend, two 21 gauge diamond studs, and an apple, I soon had my ears pierced for the first time. The diamonds stayed there for quite a while, distracting my friends every time I turned my head into the light, while I debated what to do next.
Days went by. Weeks. Months, and still the diamonds went nowhere. The subject of piercings came up in a conversation with some friends one day and one asked of another, "What do you think Matt would look good with?"
"Hm," she pondered the question for a moment. "I think he'd look pretty good if he did some stretching and got some plugs."
And once again, my desire was reignited.
I waited for a while, biding my time while I did research on the subject online. The different kinds of jewelry, the different methods of stretching. Tapers. Teflon tape stretching. After care for the piercings. Precautions and warnings; horror stories. Be careful, because you don't want scar tissue; that will fuck your shit up. I regretted getting such a small initial piercing, because it seemed if I did things the correct way, it would take forever to get where I wanted. Not to mention a sum of money that I, at the time, did not possess.
So, it seemed, for the moment my goal was out of reach.
A couple weeks later, after returning home from a party, I was talking with my roommate about piercings. "What size are those tapers you have in your room?" I asked her. She told me they were 8 gauge. Kind of a big leap from 21.
I sat there for a moment, thinking about this. I leapt to my feet, determined. I took the tapers, cleaned and sterilized them, and stood for a while in the bathroom looking at them, and looking at the tiny holes in my ears. I was young, impatient, and most importantly, fairly drunk. My roommate stood in the doorway of the bathroom as I picked the first taper up and put its edge to my ear.
It seemed like it was easy going, at first, I managed to get the very tip into the hole. It was uncomfortable, but doable. As I continued pushing, though, the discomfort turned to a dull ache, and from a dull ache to a sharp pain. My roommate, noticing the look on my face, disappeared for a moment. When she returned she held a bottle of KY in her hand. She handed it to me and told me to coat the taper with it. I complied, and returned to the job at hand. I pushed and twisted, using my free hand to hold my earlobe steady. Despite my inebriation I was definitely conscious of the pain, and of the risk of injury and thus I went slowly, "listening" for the feeling of tearing flesh. The pain was fairly bad by this point. It felt like trying to fit the square plug into the round hole. Millimeter by millimeter, I maid progress, until finally the taper was at its widest point.
Then, I did the other side. My ears were redder than a baboon's ass by the end and glistening with lube, but I had done it. I had made finally made my first step towards my goal. I was happy. But there was one more thing. I had no proper jewelry. I looked like an ass, walking around with neon-colored tapers in my ears. So the next day I resolved to buy my first pieces of jewelry.
I definitely would not tell anyone to follow my example. I've been berated by plenty of people and learned all about the risks of permanent harm I took. However I am happy with the result, and plan on stretching further with the eventual goal of stopping at 0 gauge. I'm definitely going to take it slowly this time, though. One night of drunken pain was enough for me.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 28 Sept. 2008
in Ear Piercing