My First Piercing
(which is a total lie, but... call it poetic liscence)

It was Spring Break of 2003.  While many were fleeing south 
to Cancun, I was heading north to Vancouver.  Though I didn't 
participate in the traditional boozing and sunning that my fellow 
classmates experienced, I did participate in a vacation freedom 
inspired moment: I became one of the pierced.

The piercing parlor in downtown Vancouver was much snazzier 
than any I'd seen in Florida.  Located in the back of a trendy 
clothing shop, the Anatomic piercing and tattoo shop was clean 
and classy enough to assuage my fears.  From the body modifaction 
themed art to the rubber body part models of possible piercings, 
I knew that Anatomic employees took their work seriously.

I had already had two negative experiences with eyebrow rings 
(and I have the scars to prove it).  However, I was not ready 
to give up.  I was attracted to the idea of a lip piercing.  
I wanted something that took guts to have done and self-assurance 
to pull off.  I also wanted to make a statement without affecting 
my sense of taste or ability to produce milk for the child I will 
never have.

I was led to a clean and stylish room and directed to lay down 
on a [what the hell are these called?].  I clutched the hand of 
the companion I'd brought along for morale and attempted to 
follow the piercer's directive to relax.  How did she expect me 
to relax?  Someone was about to punch a hole in my lip with a very 
large needle.

Closing my eyes and taking deep breaths, I focused on how much 
I wanted a labret and how great it would look when these first 
few minutes were over.  Before I knew it, I'd been holepunched 
and tagged with my own labret stud.  The pain was quick and sharp, 
but over within moments.  The dull throb of objection from my 
body tissue was easily handled with two Advil.

I could barely concentrate as the piercer explained the aftercare 
instructions (sea salt and scentless soap).  I made it through!  
One moment of anxiety was nothing to stop the rush of self 
onfidence and elation that followed.

I have known that day and every day since that getting my labret 
was the right decision.  It was not something done without thought, 
though it did take the freedom of a trip to Canada to give me the guts.  Perhaps I'd have been just as happy if I'd made the decision on the fly, but I'm glad I had the safety of months of consideration.