This past summer, I spent a few weeks in England visiting a friend. I had decided before I left that I would get an industrial piercing to commemorate the experience. On our long drive far out into the English countryside from Heathrow Airport, I told her my plans and she was thrilled. In fact, she said that she had been interested in getting her tragus pierced. I had never considered that piercing before, but it wasn't long before I couldn't imagine NOT getting it pierced.

Two days later, we headed into Banbury and went down a few wrong roads before finding what we were looking for - Living Colour. The shop was on the second story, so we went up a narrow flight of stairs before we found ourselves seated in a small, comfortably furnished room. I filled out my paperwork (my friend had chosen to not have her tragus pierced, although at that point I had fallen in love with the idea and had decided to have my tragus done in addition to the industrial). I passed the papers and my driver's license to the apprentice piercer, who was a bit taken aback by my American ID and took a few moments to locate where exactly my birthday was on the card. When at last she found it, she smiled, handed it back, and asked me how I was liking it so far. I told her I was loving it (which I absolutely was) and she walked into another room to put away the papers.

At this point, I was terrified. I'd never gotten any sort of piercing done besides two in each lobe, both times with a gun at the mall. I was shaking, I got the cold sweats, my teeth were chattering, I was absolutely quivering with fear and anticipation.

The apprentice motioned us into the room. The woman who was doing the piercing had more than a few  piercings in her ears (as well as a number of beautiful tattoos), which put me at ease immediately. Right away, she asked if I had been drinking or using any substances that would put me in an altered state of mind. However, she had a thick Liverpudlian accent and it was only my third day so instead of giving a confident "No." I gave her a blank look because I had absolutely no idea what she had just said. This was definitely not the best answer to that question, but she smiled and asked me again, slower. After she had gone over the rest of the questions on the forms ("For liability's sake," she told me), we ended up getting along great and had a wonderful little chat while she set everything up. She explained that she wanted me to be there while she was preparing the needles and earrings so I could see for myself that everything was sterile and clean. She showed me each individual needle and earring in the packaging before she opened it and put it on the tray. For a girl who'd never been pierced before, this was a huge reassurance. I was still quaking in my shoes, but I felt safe.

She did my tragus first. I grabbed my friend's hands and scrunched my eyes shut as soon as she put the clamp on my ear. She counted to three and the needle went through. I hardly even felt it, and when she said "All done!" I was surprised and then embarrassed by what had been, in my eyes, a complete overreaction. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked me. I just smiled and shook my head.

While she prepped my other ear for the industrial, I was feeling rather calm. When she pierced my ear, I still held my friend's hand, but I wasn't scared out of my wits this time. It hurt more than my tragus, but it may have been because the adrenaline in my body had dissipated (I was no longer shaking). Once the needle was through my ear and she turned to pick up the earrings (she put in two smaller bars instead of one large one. She said that in her experience, healing was more successful and quicker when two bars were used instead of one), I looked in the mirror and was completely fascinated by the needle sticking through my ear. I thought it looked so fantastic! In general, I think needles are really quite beautiful, and seeing it stuck through my ear sent a bizarre wave of happiness and excitement through me. She put the little bars in, I paid for everything (they were the first things I paid for with pounds), and I thanked her enthusiastically.

To be honest, I was so thrilled and excited I could have hugged her, but I didn't think that would be quite appropriate. She gave me aftercare instructions and off we went. The entire way home, I kept touching my ears to make sure they were still there (I'm not sure they would have gone), and I think I may have skipped a bit. And thus began my piercing adventures.