this is not a test...
I'm not one of those people who decides to poke holes in her body out of boredom, but this time...was simply one of those times. Fresh out of college for the summer, I decided to get a new body mod that had just as much attitude as I. That was when I had made the choice to get an industrial.
I knew that it was very pleasing, aesthetically, in my eyes, but at the same time, a bitch to heal. I also knew the risks of piercing cartilage, especially two pieces of cartilage at once. I had done my research on BMEzine and talked to different people who had it, so it wasn't like I was just rushing into this.
So why did it feel like I was about to make a huge mistake?
On an off day from work, I called up my boyfriend at the time, and asked him to come with me down to the Village, so I wouldn't lose my balls and just chicken out whenever I felt that this was going to hurt.
After walking for several blocks, over several avenues, I estimated prices at different parlors--one place wanted to charge me $70 (for fucking what?! she's not giving me a new ear!) and another was so cheap I was just worried. Thirty dollars? Uh, no thanks, I'll pay more. Maybe my chances of infection will be less.
After thinking critically (like school, eh) about my huge leap into body mods, me and my partner in crime settled on Whatever Tattoo. We walked in, and although I was slightly put off by the guy getting his back tattoo who was cursing and grimacing, I went through with my piercing anyway.
I knew that, A, I would not be able to hide this from my mom, who was totally against body mods. B, at work, people would wonder and ask questions about why I would decide to ram a bar through my ear, but it's not even like I did it myself.
I was nervous as shit-part of me was tempted to get up and run, but the other part of me was going to stick this out.
Ever hear a needle going through cartilage? It was one of the most disgusting noises I think I've ever heard. And it was bad enough that my partner heard it--he cringed for me. My piercer smirked, and said, it's totally normal. Ugh. I didn't get to see the placement, and if I hadn't looked at the package he took the needle out of, he wouldn't even have told me what gauge bar he was using (16, although 14 is the standard). He also did not tell me about aftercare and when to get the bar changed, because they don't even change jewelry there. What kind of parlor doesn't change jewelry? That's a fucking disservice, if you ask me. But being as naive as I was, and happy that I had conquered my fear of needles, I was ecstatic and even tipped him.
I was totally in love with my new piercing. My boyfriend loved it, my friends loved it, my mother learned to love it, although my hairdresser asked me what had pissed me off to the extent that I needed a bar through my ear.
It was only red and inflamed the first 24 hours, bled very little, and hurt when I cleaned it.
This is where things go totally downhill.
Only a week of having my piercing, I get into a fight with my brother. It's not a fistfight or anything, but a pillow fight. My bro, who is heavy-handed even with the lightest touch, whacks me on the left side on my head. Pop. I feel pain immediately. Fortunately, I don't feel any more pain, there is no blood, and there wasn't any bruising. Whew, another close call.
About two weeks after having it done, one of the balls from the industrial fell off. I didn't notice it until I was on the train at 3 AM, on my way home from work. And technically, I hadn't even noticed--my boyfriend, who had asked, 'how's the lovely industrial?' noticed. To my shock and dismay, I realized I had lost a ball. Fuck. I was scared to go to sleep that night, for fear that I would accidentally move the bar in my sleep and cause one of the holes to close.
At 11 AM the next morning, I hop out of bed and rush to Spanish Harlem (three blocks away from me) in my pajamas to get a 16 gauge bar. After being charged ten dollars for a new bar (shit) I rush home, and this time, put the ball on myself. Having the ball fall off a fresh piercing should have shown me that he was an incompetent piercer, between that and his attitude.
My second mishap was when I was getting my hair washed at the salon, and my hairdresser accidentally whacks me on the side of my head, hitting my left ear. I cringe in pain, but stifle it until I go home. I clean up the blood and crusties, and go on merrily about my way.
The long ass bar was literally a pain in my fucking ass the whole time I had the piercing--when I was in a rush, it slowed me down. Either the bar would get caught on my clothing, or the time consuming process of aftercare (which I got from wikipedia and the helpful people here on bmezine) would go overtime. I was miserable with the long bar, and later considered getting two separate CBRs so that there would be less hassle.
The third and final straw was less than two months into the piercing. The hypertrophic scarring was intense--and when I got my new glasses, the ball on the bar was so big that it made my glasses sit uncomfortably. Frustrated, I knew I had to make a decision. Either I had to choose between two things I loved--my piercing or my glasses. I sadly retreated to my bathroom, and took the bar out. It was the end of an era, combined with the breakup of my boyfriend, ironically. I got two more lobe piercings (seconds) and started stretching my lower lobes to compensate for my loss, and I must say I'm happier.
I can say what I've learned from this story, and it's this--some piercings aren't meant for everyone. I later learned that my piercing was done at a poor angle, and that I should have asked more questions beforehand--maybe if I had gotten two separate CBRs, they could have been changed to a longer bar in the future, saving me time and pain.
I am considering getting an industrial again, but I highly doubt that I would get a bar until I am healed. And whatever I do...I WILL NOT go back to Whatever Tattoo. Addiction, my new studio, is so much better :)
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 27 Jan. 2013
in Industrials and Orbitals