It's curious why metals are jabbed through tissue. Whether it be cultural or individual, puncturing the body seems quite peculiar.
Deep breath in through your nose, now ou—STAB! Before there was enough time for fright, the needle protruded flesh. It was almost like riding Kingda Ka: the accumulation of butterflies in the stomach begins once it's already over. However, that could just be a lag in reaction or denial that it's happening.
Heat locomotes to the point of intersection proceeding the first step of action. The needle remains still and the situation turns painless. The initial pain is reflected upon, a tear or three fell down a cheek, a squeal or scream left the throat, or maybe even words of relief. Regardless, now remains a passenger strapped into their decision.
Sitting with a dangling needle in the body seems to feel comfortable until jewelry replaces for ideal healing. To prevent the closing of a new hole, the transfer from instrument to the instrument must be a quick one. It seems too quick to feel nothing other than a slight pinch.
Following this is the cool antiseptic to clean a man-made hole. Piercers would surely have a keen grasp on stain removal, for their dabbing methods seem to relieve the wound of all surrounding blood. A look in the mirror reflects the reality since it is advised to keep dirty its far from the healing of the piercing.
Whether presented or remaining rather hidden underneath a tongue, hair, or clothes, the piercing lays and stays ideally for a few months. Gentle salted twice a day cleaning along with vitamin E oil saturation shortens the irritation period for ultimate relishment.
However, it's hard to enjoy and to live by mother's fantasy of what her child's untouched skin would look like if it hadn't already been jabbed through several times. Sometimes, the snide comments of the public influences how the jewelry proceeds in its new habitat.
With five ear holes, two nose piercings, a tongue web and a nipple piercing, I've been confronted by people who seem to have my best intention in their hearts: why do you only have one nipple pierced? Okay, not the point, dude. Although I've been asked this many times before, I haven't led you thus far to the irrelevant answer of personal questions.
If it must be known, I was $4 short.
We can dwell on asymmetrically at a later date because I currently find myself in the crossroad between respecting others while also staying true to my best belief, being honest throughout the entire journey.
It seems that people want the best for my sake as I grow into my body, the professional community, and the social regularities of what it means to be an Earthling. I don't find myself feeling unworthy to accompany a population of highly degreed humans due to the metal located in various parts of my body. Instead, the embarrassment surpasses myself, being placed upon my mother who disagrees with my found expression.
Growing up in different homes, moving schools, with two older sister and united, but eventually separated authoritative figures, one thing remained true regardless of position or motion: "Stay true to yourself and your expression, but don't forget to water the cats and feed the cucumbers!"
My whole life, I was treated as an equal human to my sisters and generally, to my parents. With reprimand when it was due, the world was full of exploration with distant guidance. Such a style of parenting played a huge role in the development of my thoughts, my actions, and my true form. I suppose the wackiness of it all was definitely genetically transported so that no matter the situation, there was always a pun or smile to follow.
I feel free to be. But when you're already strapped into the coaster and shooting forward at incredible speeds, it's hard to start over without finishing the ride. I can come back from my piercings after I've already gotten them because they're easily removable, can be turned out of sight, or discretely kept in a barrier between the piercing and the gawking spectator.
I shouldn't have to pretend that their existence, in fact, exists in my body since it seems that I've clearly outgrown the dolls of my past. Coming to terms with being exuberantly ostracized by someone who loves you passionately is even hard to bare if you're the one ostracizing. Empathising with all of humanity has given me perspective on the unpierced world.
A toast to the mother that disagrees with this form of my expression, as she believes piercings to be self-mutilating because regardless, she still loves me with a third of her heart, provides me support of multimedias, and deserves my love and respect far beyond the depths of the unknown ocean. I've learned that agreements aren't found on all fronts, but compromises must take their gracious places.
