I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
- Nine Inch Nails
(This one is kind of long, but I think it is worth it...)
I guess this all started on Monday. While at work, I got a call from Steph because she wanted to spend her Shreveport winnings on a new tattoo and she wanted me to be there for it. So after I got off work I went home to change then made the drive to Lewisville. (TX-121 is the most insane highway I have ever seen. A major highway with freaking traffic signals?) After picking up Steph we made the short trip to Love and Hate, her parlor of choice.
After a little browsing (and lots of stupid jokes by me) she decided to get the phrase "Unscarred" on her lower back. For those of you, like me, who may not understand the significance of the word, it is a reference to Phil, the lead singer from Pantera. Twenty minutes later it was done and we were off to the Blue Moon across the street for food units and drinks. We ended up closing the place. Needless to say, that led to some rather random conversation toward the end of the evening. And that is when the gauntlet was thrown down for the first time by Steph.
"We should go across the street and get our nipples pierced! We'll each get one done. It will be a great bonding experience!"
Panic set in for me. Not because I was totally against getting it done, but because I had to work at 5am the next morning and I thought I would need a few more drinks in me to do that on the spur of the moment. So my genius rebuttal? "Monday is not a nipple piercing night." That's my new mantra, by the way. Monday is not a nipple piercing night.
I decided to consult Debra (aka NoShow) on the subject. I called her and told her that Steph had a question for her. I passed the phone over the table and the first words NoShow ever heard Steph say were "Do you think John should get his nipple pierced?" And all Deb could do was laugh - a lot. Finally, she did say that I needed to do something spontaneous like that. Unfortunately, Monday is not a nipple piercing night.
Then Deb called back. Her husband, the notorious Snake, wanted to get his done. So we set it up then. Saturday night. Now THAT is a nipple piercing night. The four of us were going to make an outing of it and three of us were going to get stabbed.
Fast forward to Friday. I get a call about 10pm from Steph. "You're gonna be mad at me." I couldn't think of anything she could say that would make that statement true. "I'm getting one of my nipples pierced right now." Again, I wasn't mad. A little disappointed? Yeah, but not mad by any means. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more relieved I was. The only other person I had talked to who had his done said he passed out during the procedure. Now I was going to get some instant feedback on how things went. A short time later she called back and said it wasn't bad at all. The nose piercing, Steph said, was much worse. I suddenly felt braver.
Now Saturday... The plan was for me to pick up Steph and then go somewhere for dinner and drinks where we would be met by Snake and Flake (aka Debra). From there we would go to Love and Hate and then on to somewhere else for more drinks. However, on my way to Lewisville, Flake called and said "You're gonna be mad at me." (I see a trend here.) She couldn't find her driver's liscense. And that put the kibosh on our post-piercing plans. And just to prove that I'm really only 12 years old, the biggest disappointment for me was that I had worn jeans instead of shorts because of the after-plans. I told them that they could still meet us for dinner and needles, but I think the stress of wondering where the ID was (and how long it had been missing) kind of put them out of the "fun" mood and they declined.
But Steph and I forged onward. After five pints (for me) we went to the parlor. Less than five minutes later we were in the room with Reese, the guy who was doing the work. Steph went first and had her left one done. (By now I had also heard that the left one is the more sensitive of the two because it has more nerve endings or somesuch.) Now it was my turn. I passed my phone to Steph, because I had given her a crash course on taking pics with it at Razzoo's, and took off my shirt.
The first thing I had to do was stand there, completely still, while Reese pinched my nips to make them stand out a bit. Then he made markings with a pen on either side so he would have a map of sorts for his needle. The left one was easy (maybe because it is more sensitive?) but the right one took him three or four tries before he was satisfied with his markings. Then I was laying on the table staring at the Yoda head hanging from the ceiling.
"There is no try, there is only do", I said.
 I was pretty nervous, but only because I had seen the size of the needle used on Steph. It certainly wasn't your average sewing needle, that's for sure. (Afterward, while on the phone with Mason, we debated the actual size. We decided it was either a 12 gauge or 10 gauge, if that means anything to any of you.) Reese first put the clamp on my right nip. The clamp has holes that are lined up with the pen markings and the needle goes right through. Here we go...
A little pinch and it was over. Not a huge deal, though I did wiggle my feet a little. And now Reese moved to my left.
 I felt the needle make the entry. Not too bad, but a little more pain than the last one. Then I heard Reese say something along the lines of "Damn". Evidently he had hit a tough spot, a wall of some kind. I felt him pushing harder, saw his arm kind of quivering while trying to get the needle all the way through. That was tough to take and made me very apprehensive. Finally, after only a few seconds that seemed like hours, the needle went through. My feet were going crazy and I said "Shit, that hurt!" And it did. But it was over now. Kind of.
I got off the table and endured a massive head-rush. As Steph and I walked to the car my knees felt weak and I also felt light-headed. What I wanted more than anything at that moment was a cigarette and a Diet Coke. I had the cigs, but not the drink. I don't think I have ever had a stronger craving for Diet Coke except, perhaps, while in Mexico where they were as rare as nipple rings on nuns.
Steph and I got into the Jeep and headed to the Fox and Hound for drinks and a snack. The seatbelt really bothered me. She laughed at that, but I reminded her that she has, uh, natural separators for the belt. I didn't. By the time we sat down in the bar I was a borderline wreck. I was still weak-kneed and light-headed. And my nips were sore beyond imagination. And the more we talked about it, the worse they hurt (to her complete amusement). I ordered a beer and a water and she got a 7&7 and a water along with fried cheese. My water was gone in no time. That should tell most of you something.
"Aren't you going to eat any fried cheese?" To tell you the truth, I was very paranoid about eating anything. I was feeling a bit queasy and the thought of food, especially fried, scared the shit out of me. I wanted nothing more than to lay down at that moment. We left after two drinks. (A new record?)
When I woke up this morning my nipples were still a little tender but nothing like they were the night before. And I bled a little on the bedspread which, I am told, is normal. Then I had to do the maintenance. It involves pushing the little barbells back and forth through the nipple to help the healing process. I was nervous just thinking about this, but it turned out to be not so bad. Next up is the cleaning: Antibacterial soap twice a day.
Finally - an excuse to play with my nipples...
Entry posted by Leemer | www | E-Mail this entry |
