When I was younger, my parents flat-out refused to let me get my ears pierced. I begged and pleaded because "All the other girls at school have got THEIR ears pierced, Mum!" and there are few things an average nine year old wants more than to be exactly the same as all the other nine year olds. Even when I was a perfectly rational teenager who, like, totally knew her own mind and shit, they still wouldn't allow it (and going against the wishes of my father is definitely not something to be taken lightly).
I never really understood their hangup about piercings because they're basically impermanent; you just remove the metal and your body will grow back like it was never there. Genius, and a pretty safe choice for someone who changes their mind as often as I do.
So, after I'd moved out to live with friends in sea-sidey Brighton, when someone suggested a "piercing day" I was all in. In an I'm-only-going-to-get-something-lame-or-my-parents-will-probably-disown-me sort of way. And, as I'd recently spotted this pink Transformer earring in one of my favourite up-cycling boutiques, I figured it was a sign I needed to make a hole in my body to hang it next to my face.
I accompanied three hardcore friends to our local bad-ass piercing parlour where they became the proud owners of a lip ring, tongue stud, and ear scaffold. I watched each of them get skewered like a kebab, and yet I still wanted to have a go too. However, when I asked the piercing guy if he'd pierce just one of my earlobes he said "This place doesn't do pieces of jewellery; we do wounds". Lovely.... So I dragged my mates up to the main shopping centre and headed into (wait for it- this is pretty rock and roll!)... CLAIRE'S ACCESSORIES.
When we arrived, I was so irrationally and inexplicably nervous that when the piercing girl (and by that, I don't mean she was qualified- just the member of staff who happened to be nearest to the gun) asked my age I blurted out "sixteen!!" - the legal age for getting your ears pierced without parental consent. I was actually nineteen....
So, there I was, sat in the window of Claire's Accessories, surrounded by nine-year-old girls and listening to S Club 7 on the in-store radio, waiting for Claire (unfortunately not THE Claire's Accessories Claire - I did ask) to shoot me with her magic piercing gun. Claire told me she was going to count to three, to which I replied "Don't be daft- I know you're going to do it on 'two'!". So Claire, the wiley minx, decided she was going to count to five. Damn it.
After my initial nervousness, it didn't actually hurt at all. Nor did it hurt the day after it was pierced, so I completely ignored the advice of both Claire and my housemates and decided to immediately change the earring for a ridiculously giant faux-diamond bit of bling. I'm pretty sure my housemates chorused "We told you so"; but I couldn't hear them over my own screams whilst attempting to re-pierce my own ear... I mean, there was no way I was going back to Claire's and paying another £8 to have it re-done.
|I love this glow-in-the-dark earring because it reminds me of the stickers I had on my childhood bedroom ceiling.|
I chose to get only one ear pierced because at the time I had a huuuuge asymmetrical emo fringe and I thought a single earring would balance out my face (and the weight of my fringe, stopping my head from constantly tipping sideways). Now my hair is symmetrical I'm always being told I've lost an earring, but it's very handy to only need one because my friends give me any odd earrings from pairs where one's been lost. And I'd worry about the weight on my neck if I started hanging two lots of random plastic crap off of my earlobes.... Haha
|My bat stud is certainly not just for Halloween!|
|Lego Riddler earring, made from a keyring|
Have you got any piercings with a story behind them?