Thursday, 17 November 2011

Please Stab My Nipple, And The Other Thx.

Simply put, I wanted to have a pierced nipple. I am not sure why, I am not sure where I saw one first and I am not sure why I thought it wouldn't hurt. All of these things aside I called down to a local tattoo/piercing shop, inquired about an estimate and made an appointment.
We parked the car and I began to almost run to the shop with childlike excitement. I was almost giddy with anticipation. This was one of those decisions in life that came by lightly. I really did not weigh out the pros and cons and just thought it would be cool to have a pierced nipple.
We walked into the shop filled with rebellious teens with spikes in their heads and tattoos on their necks. I for the first time during this experience began to doubt what I was doing. I appeared to be entering the underbelly of St. John's. For the first time during this piercing my nipple phase, the red flags began to appear. I looked around the waiting rooms and every little freaky kid there turned into a red flag. The girl behind the counter with the spider web tattoo and the bad attitude was red flag. Then, came out the "dude" who was going to be stabbing me. He was cute, in a tattooed, pierced, homeless, California skateboarder kind of way. He was a huge red flag.
For most people when they see a red flag in their life it is a moment for them to pause, think, and rationalize a decision that they are about to make. It is your human instinct telling you to run away and hide. I simply painted those red flags white, saved face and did what I had intended to do. I would just learn my lesson later.
I walked into a room that had tools and a dentist chair. Darren came with me. I was suddenly not feeling well and the fear of what was about to happen was hitting me. I really wanted to be cool though. This little punk was making small talk with me about music etc and as I stripped of my shirt he asked me if I ever faint when I got needles. What a stupid question. Of course I faint when I get needles! I told him no. Darren gave me that pop eyed look and I immediately shut him up with a blank stare and I laid back in the chair.
It was at this moment that Darren and I knew that this was going to get ugly. These types of things never go smoothly for me and I was no doubt on the edge of one of those embarrassing and painful experiences that my therapist will spends years trying to block from my memory.
He asked me which one I wanted to do first? WTF? I suddenly realized that he was piercing both so I immediately thought about his question. Any normal person would state their intention of just wanting one and he would proceed and all would be good. I however, firmly stated " the left." You may wonder to yourself why I didn't say that I simply wanted one done but I had intended to do the left so I thought if it went poorly I would just say I changed my mind about the right one and I would leave with what I wanted.
He marked my nipples and put clamps on them to make them easier to drive a stake through. It was then That he said "OK Dude, let's do it." He proceeded to pierce my left nipple. I couldn't watch, breathe or really focus on anything. The adrenaline was coursing through my body and wether it was nature protecting me or my mind blocking this to protect me but I felt no pain. He asked me how it was? I looked at him and looked at Darren. They were both smiling and nodding at me. It was done. I felt a little pressure but there was no pain. I stood up and look in the full length mirror. Holy moly, it looked sexy. I was a stud. I totally got my nipple pierced and I didn't faint or anything. Then came the moment what would prove to be the beginning of my downfall that day. I said to the sexy, California, homeless dude, "do the other one."
As the words came out of my mouth I realized that it was a horrible mistake. I should have left good enough alone and left with one nipple pierced and have a good memory of this experience. I didn't however.
I assume that all of the protective adrenaline had drained from my body at this time. I was fully aware of what was happening. I was breathing and I was looking. He took this long, curved needle and attached the "horseshoe" ring to it and proceeded to push it through my right nipple.
As the needle pressed through, tearing the flesh along the way I felt a pain unlike anything I had ever felt before. I looked at Darren and he knew. He knew that I was about to lose my shit. He sees that look in my face every now and then and he knows there is nothing he can do to stop it. My body began to stiffen and I began to make a primal noise that I am sure could summon the dead and made dogs run away. As I screamed like a child being ripped in half I arched my back like a 4th degree yoga pose and raised my belly bottom to the ceiling and howled. I really cannot put that noise into words but is was loud, shrilling and came from a place inside me that I have never visited before.
The sexy, California, homeless dude was totally freaked out. He began pressing down on my chest trying to flatten my arched pose simply saying "dude, relax...dude, relax."
Finally the torture had ended the ring was in and I was was weak and sweating. I felt like had been tortured and beaten. I was exhausted and suddenly I realized that he was about to open that door where I had to go outside into the waiting room where no doubt there were a half dozen thugs and freaky kids laughing at me.
Sweat and tears were rolling down my face. I then had to pay for this and tip the little shit for stabbing me twice. I walked to the counter and feared looking back to see the faces of the people waiting.
I looked back in shock. The place was empty. I can only assume that the noises that came from my room must have scared the shit out of everyone of this little punks and they fled in fear. Maybe that was the good thing that came out of that day. Perhaps I saved some father from having to walk to the supper table that night to see his daughter with one of those bull rings in her nose or a spike going through her eyebrow. Maybe I was an instrument of good. I personally may have been a red flag that remained unpainted.
All I know is that the lesson "quit while you are ahead" would have been a great one to learn that day. That right nipple, that caused me such pain and torture went on to get infected and reject from my body.
I still have that left one and I still like it. I wear it like a badge of honour. I will have it until I die. After what I went through that day i will never let that this out of my flesh. It is like a bullet I got in Nam. Its there for good. My own war wound.
If you ever find yourself in a shop full of odd kids with spike in their heads and webs on their neck and some kid is drawing dots on your nipples and you are not sure of what you are doing. Stop, put your shirt back on and run. Trust me. Run like you have never ran before.
This spring I am going to get a half-sleeve tattoo. First I am going to my doctor for an Ativan prescription. Just sayin.

1 comment:

  1. I have often wondered about getting my nipple(s) pierced. But I've worried that it is not something that a guy over 50 should do. Signs of mid-life crisis and all that. I think you've convinced me that it would not be such a good idea.