About three hours ago, I got an industrial piercing. For those of you not in the know, an industrial piercing looks like this:
As you may have deduced, an industrial piercing is actually two piercings, with a bar jammed into them. I don’t know what exactly compelled me to want the piercing, besides the fact that I just thought it looked good. That’s enough for me, really.
Now, onto the actual experience, which I just know you all will find extremely riveting.
I walked into the tattoo shop behind a woman who I had just watched toss her cigarette out the window.
“Can I help you?” She asked.
“She’s here to get a piercing,” my father explained, who had accompanied me for the express reason of filming the entire thing and hoping I would cry and throw a big fit.
I knew I certainly wasn’t going to cry, (I’m not a bitch), but I was concerned that at some point I might, you know, get something in my eye and it might flood with eye juices and tear up and stuff like that.
“What kind of piercing do you want?” The woman asked.
“An industrial,” I answered.
She nodded. “Which ear?”
“My right,” I said.
She frowned. “Well, which side do you sleep on?”
“My left,” I lied. “That’s why I chose my right.” In reality, I chose my right ear because I plan to get a tattoo of some sort on the left side of my body, and I’m all about odd symmetry. Also, I prefer to hold my phone up to my left ear.
She nodded. “Okay, which piece do you like?” She asked, holding up a cushion with various barbells stabbed into it. I selected a black barbell, with points at the end.
The woman nodded. “Black titanium. You’re the first to select this type,” she explained, loosening the jewelery from its cushion. I was on the verge of asking why no one else had ever chosen that type, (like, did it cause herpes or something?), but before I knew it, I was whisked off to a black chair.
My dad laughed from his perch ten feet away. “You look tight,” he teased.
“Whatever,” I replied.
The woman turned around to face me. “When was the last time you ate?” She asked.
“Uh… Like three hours ago,” I replied, beginning to feel hungry now that she had brought it up. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, you know, if you’re feeling nervous–”
“I’m not gonna throw up,” I interjected with a laugh, seeing where she was heading. “I’m not that nervous. More like excited,” I finished.
“Okay,” she said, brandishing a medieval looking pair of scissors. “Lie on your side.”
“Those don’t even look sharp,” I thought to myself worriedly as the woman scrubbed at my ear and marked the incision points. “Holy shit.”
“The first one’s gonna hurt more than the second,” the woman began. “Because of all the cartilage.”
I nodded. “Alright!”
“Deep breath,” she suggested, stabbing the scissors into my ear.
I shut my eyes tight. My ear began to ache and throb incessantly, but it wasn’t insanely painful.She slid the barbell through the hole and I gasped.
“Woah,” I said, laughing. “What a weird feeling…” Because it was a weird feeling. Like getting a metal bar shoved through a fresh wound in your ear.
“Here we go,” she said, readying the scissors for the next piercing.I shut my eyes and–
“Fuck!” I exclaimed as she stabbed my ear. The second piercing had gone much quicker, but hurt like a motherfucker; way more than the first.
“All done,” the woman said, screwing the ball onto the barbell.
I sat up, surveying my ear in the mirror. It was super red and super sore, but the piercing itself looked pretty good.
Three hours later, my ear still hurts, but I love my piercing. I can switch the barbell in two weeks, and I’m already eyeing some new ones:
But one barbell tops them all…
HOW FUCKING COOL IS THAT?!