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JAYNE WITH A WHY |
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Saturday, May 26, 2018ON GETTING MY NOSE PIERCED......
I came to a gob-smacking
reality check recently & diagnosed myself to be an out & out masochist.
I had my 2nd & final, (thank gawd) sitting to finish my half-sleeve
(tattoo) done & the lovely lady who does piercing pitched up, so in the
spirit of living up to the Growing Old Disgracefully state of mind, decided to
have my nose pierced.
(Whilst I was getting inked,
a customer came in to have her nose pierced & I never heard so much as a
squeak, so I just assumed it was pretty painless.)
Holy mother of all things
small & furry, I nearly fucking died! The tears ran down my face & the
snot from my nose & I thought it would never fucking end! The lovely young lady,
who performed what felt like rhinoplasty by a witchdoctor, assured me it wasn't
"so bad" & would be over in a matter of seconds.
She
fucking LIED!!!!
Jaysus, there's me thinking
(stupidly) that aforementioned lovely lady, would have a small gadget that she
inserted into the chosen nostril & then - quick as a flash - would press a
trigger & hey presto, a hole would be punctured.
I should have backed out
when she held up a sealed, sterile needle, about 2" long.
I quipped, "What, you
got a hammer to knock it through?" and she laughed.
I’m blonde right? I sometime think my IQ is
around the same size as my favourite boots. How could I be so stupid?
I fear
her laugh will haunt me in future bad dreams.
I then learnt there was no
hammer. She would just be using brute fucking force! She could only have
weighed 40kg dripping wet, so her brute fucking force was like that of a
kitten. Once punctured, it took a fucking eternity to push through what looked
like a fucking corkscrew with a stud on the end! After I dried my tears of
pain (I'm really getting to be a wuss in my old age!) & wiped away my snot,
I laughed with the now- not-so-lovely-piercing-lady, whilst thinking I must
have a massive bat in the cave*. It took a while to get used
to this very strange feeling. Nursing my watering eyes & snotty nose, I
removed myself from one torture chamber to the other & the tattooist
continued to ply his art for another hour or so.
That night, I was awakened
by the pain of a sore shoulder & being (slightly) drugged up, wondered why
I'd got a massive bogey up my nose still..........
*sigh*
I told myself the process
really couldn't be too painful, cos the piercing had already been done. The old
adage of 'Once Bitten Twice Shy' sort of niggled at the back of my sludge, but
I honestly didn't think it would hurt.
I
thought wrong!
Getting the corkscrew stud
out merely brought tears to my eyes, but the pain was bearable.
Inserting the ring involved
a bit of delicate manoeuvring, but no tears were shed.
Closing the ring with a pair
of pliers................well what can I say? Picture the brute strength of an
Olympic weightlifter squeezing my right nostril - instead of the fucking nose
ring, which had slipped out of the pliers grasp - and you'll get an idea of
what it felt like! Despite being seated, my legs felt very weak & I tried not
to hyperventilate. I couldn’t help wondering if there was a training manual for
inflicting heart stopping pain on unsuspecting clients. I hasten to admit the
(now regarded) sadistic beeyatch brandishing pliers couldn't stop blubbering
her apologies & I couldn't help thinking that I seriously need psychiatric
help for wanting to do this to myself. And the saddest thing about the whole
procedure is that I had to live through it again, a few minutes
later..............after I'd stopped trembling & gained a bit of composure!
The first attempt at closing the ring didn't quite work, because my right
nostril got in the way. The second attempt yielded the same result. (By which
time, I felt like my nose must surely be the size of my arse cheek!)
I am pleased to say that the
third & final attempt at securing the closure of the aforementioned nose
ring - with the also aforementioned fucking pliers - succeeded & I had a
brief moment of thinking I had finally found God. (The moment passed very
quickly!)
I made a declaration, along
the lines of "the fucking thing is in & there's no ways it's coming
out!
A few weeks later, having
regained my composure, I ended up making an appointment with another tattoo
artist & body piercer in town. I wasn’t getting more ink, but my nostril
kept going septic & I couldn’t move the ring. It turned out this was because it hadn’t
been closed properly (fucking pliers!) & as a result, was growing into the
skin. My arse puckered up in cringe-worthy terror when I saw the bloke brandishing a small pair of pliers! The offending ring was cut into in 2 pieces & removed. My nostril was re-pierced
& a new stud was inserted.
It took a nano second & was painless.
I could’ve kissed the bloke!
Nowadays, I’m sporting a
beautiful, decorative gold nose ring, sent to me by my ‘soul sister’ in Canada.
I put it in myself, without
hassle.
No tears were shed in the
process & no pliers were in sight.
I didn’t utter a single swear word.
Which even surprised me.
* Bogey up my nose  
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