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No going back, my 1st scarification

One afternoon I was at home watching a special on body modifications of the world.  Naturally a good portion of the program was spent on the many African Tribes and their varying rituals.  One of the re-occurring modifications was scarification.  I had seen them before but never considered one before that moment, but I was automatically hooked on the notion.  I knew I just had to have one.  Now at this point I had already received four or five piercings and  several tattoos.  I already knew that I had not only a high tolerance for pain but that I was actually partial to it on many occasions.  My mother said that even when I was a baby I never cried getting my shots and in elementary school I would look forward to the dentist for those shots in the roof of my mouth.  As well as using my  body as a canvas I went to art school making me now a "professional artist".  In that view of things I thought it to be a masterpiece when compared to tattoos because it is your body making  it's own art (with a little persuasion).  That's another reason I'm fond of body suspensions, because the skin can be one of the most beautiful and alluring media.  So I went on the hunt for someone to do this to me because as far as I knew it was not something readily available.  How wrong I was. 

I had a friend volunteer to do it and I would have taken him on if I hadn't found someone else because I was in the frame of mind that even if I had to do it myself it was going to get done.  About a week later I went in to get another piercing and I brought this up to my piercer.  To my luck and astonishment he not only had one himself but did them as well.  Score!  Needless to say he agreed to do it so I started in on my design.  It is a celtic spiral, for my heritage, but personalized so it's still original.  When we finally got together to do it I was pretty nervous because I had no idea what to expect.  I wondered as tough as I considered myself if I could really handle this.  I sat silent watching him prepare as if I was in a trance.  He disinfected everything and put a layer of paper towels down as a table cloth and then he brought out the knives.   When the cutting began it did hurt but I found it an enthralling game to keep my poker face and take it without a sound .  I was very proud of myself for taking it as well as I did considering I was doubting myself at first.  I knew I could get through it I just thought it would be a lot harder than it was.   As the night wore on and I accomplished my goal my friend told me that the artist  had secretly said that he thought I would chicken out and couldn't believe that I didn't even flinch once.  Especially when he rubbed the coarse sand on it to tear the cuts up a bit more.  I found out about a year later (as I stayed very  good friends with the man who honored me with my first taste of pain on these levels) that he was purposefully cutting deeper and going back over the same places again and again trying to get a rise out of me.  Unfortunately bleeding was beyond my control and I apparently have thin blood to begin with.  It puddled up under my arm with blood clots floating in it (the cutting is on my upper arm), and dripped everywhere including his carpet and all over my clothes.  I absol utely loved it even though my arm throbbed my entire drive home.   

I had the cuts gone over three time because the scars just weren't as big as I'd liked.  Each time was more painful because it was cutting through the existing scar tissue and it took more and more scalpels because they dulled so quickly.  On the third time around the cuts were audible.  It sounded like a shovel scraping on a driveway to me.  So at last, on his very final stroke, I gave him the pleasure of a grimace.  Although he probably would've liked to have seen me during the four days afterward of scrubbing the scabs off.  One time I had to have my boyfriend at the time do it for me because I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  Truthfully though, I think the hardest part of it all was the unbearable itching that is inevitable with a healing cut.  Most people may not agree but I think from all the times I had poison ivy as a child, there is no sensation I hate more than itching.     

Now, two years later, it is the most precious thing on my body.  I love to rub it all the time and feel the big scars under my fingers and hand.  They ended up being about as big as the scars from my mothers open heart surgery.  I can feel them through my clothes and see them if the shirt is tight enough.  My favorite thing though is to rub my lips on it because both my lips and the scars are soft and smooth.  It also turns colors; purple when I'm cold, red or white at other times, and is normally a pinkish color.  Sometimes when I'm looking at pictures of the days afterward I wish it would have stayed scabby forever.  Or at least wish I could get a second one the would which is why I'm considering rubbing red ink into the next one.  It is still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and I think if people are willing to be pierced and tattooed it is definitely worth the pain to go a step further.  .


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 04 Dec. 2002
in Scarification

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Artist: my+buddy
Studio: several+different+places
Location: indianapolis%2C+IN

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