I had been mesmerized by tattoos and piercings ever since I was small, but was deprived due to being a competitive dancer (body mods = big no-no). Even my ears hadn't been pierced since I was 12. When I moved on from dance as well as high school after graduation in 2002, I waited anxiously for my 18th birthday that August. My best friend Rayn (then 19) and I had planned to get our tongues pierced for ages, and had finally decided on my 18th birthday as the day.
At A Glance Author Scapegrace Contact scapegrace13@hotmail.com When Two years ago Artist Clinton Studio Artistic Skin Design Location Indianapolis, IN
We went to a mall in Greenwood with my mom and younger brother, who we quickly separated from to meet two of my online friends (Mia and Chris) at Hot Topic. Somewhere in my sad adolescent skull, I'd gotten the idea that pierced at Pacsun. So, with big hopeful eyes (to clash with their narrow skeptical ones), I dragged my poor friends across the mall to discover that Pacsun has never pierced. My stomach fell, but Mia and her lovely pierced-and-tattooed self came to the rescue. We escaped to her car, and she transported us all to her body mods place--Artistic Skin Design, only 10-15 minutes away. The place was so clinical that it smelled like a hospital, in a reassuring way. Our piercer Clinton sat Rayn (who, despite having a lip ring and a baby, was terrified) and I (who was fearless and casual, which I figure comes from having went through too many theatre classes) down to go through the incoming procedure in great detail and give us as much chance as possible to back out if necessary. We didn't, of course.
He had Rayn go first, as she was the most nervous. He let Mia and Chris join us in the mildly cramped piercing room, and I scooted my chair next to Rayn so she could clamp her hand over mine as he wiped her tongue with a paper towel. He clamped her tongue, prepared the needle, and slid it through slowly and gently. She winced and squeezed my hand until it was white, and I pretended that the image of the needle sliding through her tongue wasn't making my stomach hurt a little. He tightened up the starter post, and--like that--she was done. With a smile, she admitted it was just a small pinch and not nearly as bad as she'd prepared for. Then we switched places, and she took my hand (despite my fantastic psh-this-is-nothing impromptu act). My piercing went just as quickly, and Mia remarked proudly, "She didn't even flinch!" as the needle jammed through my tongue. And I didn't. To be honest, I didn't even feel it. Not a pinch, not anything. So my acting was in vain. I didn't have to pretend to be cool with the piercing. I could have been cool with it, no pretending. But we all are a little scared of our first piercing, I suppose. Clinton handed us aftercare sheets, which he went through with us. Then we paid (an obscene amount, though I didn't mind since it was an awfully top-notch place) and left, easy as that.
Mom and my bro were a bit miffed since Rayn and I were late meeting them at the agreed spot, but we were quiet and docile (especially since we had secret 12-gauge hunks of metal in our tongues) and got slushies in careful obedience of the aftercare sheets. Rayn's was throbbing by the time we reached my house, but mine had yet to feel anything but a little strange. In fact, I imagine I could have never told my mother without it being obvious, since it never got so sore to make me talk noticeably funny. I did tell her though, the next day. She wasn't thrilled, but I don't know many moms that would have been ^_^.
After getting headaches from treacherous attempts at eating soft solids for the first week, I was finally able to eat like normal again (Rayn as well). I purchased a nice little collection of normal-length barbells after a couple months with the starter post in my tongue, and all was well. I didn't tap it against my teeth like people always warned against, and never even got the urge to do so. I did get in the habit of turning it sideways in my mouth so it fit between my bottom molars, which occasionally caused it to get stuck against my teeth so I had to unstick it with my fingers (sometimes in the middle of sentences, much to my friends' wild amusement). But that was my own silly fault. I soon stopped that shit.
It wasn't until I'd had the piercing for at least 1 1/2 years that suddenly, havoc struck. My two front teeth were becoming mysteriously cracked and chipped, leading to two trips to the dentist. The first was to get my teeth fixed. Then, when they were becoming chipped and cracked again, I scheduled the second one. Before the second trip, I realized I had to suck up my pride and admit my know-it-all college roommate may have been right. Maybe my barbell (now 10-gauge) was knocking around in my mouth in my sleep, as she had said it was. So, sadly, out it came.
I sacrificed my beautiful metal tongue for my front teeth. My tongue will forevermore feel naked just so I don't look even more like a hilljack as I chat up locals with my toothless grin. In the long run, I figure it was a sound investment.