When I was 20, I worked in a job for a few months where I had to travel around the UK a lot. It was a slightly mad time in my life. I was fresh back from my second stint in Namibia and such a gap year casualty. You could spot me a mile off, with my colourful skirts and millions of bracelets. My hair was really short and would stick out at crazy angles when I took my hat off. I always had a hat. That's another thing. I always wore hats. I had a massive collection of them.
Anyway, this one day, I was working with three other girls in Leicester (I think). I had initially thought I wouldn't get on with one of them but we hit it off pretty soon and I thought she was fab. I had pretty much made up my mind I wanted to be her. And she had her nose pierced. In fact, all three of the other girls had their noses pierced.
After a particularly successful working day, we were all feeling a bit high and excitable. We had spotted a tattoo and piercing place and decided that we would go en masse, and I would get my nose pierced.
Off we went and I entered and announced that I would like my nose pierced please. Not having any foreknowledge of how these things are done, I offered up my nose to this complete stranger, wielding what I now know to be an ear piercing device and let him pierce me.
I wandered off, the others all admiring my pretty nose stud, feeling way cool. I left it for the a few weeks but started to feel something wasn't right when my nostril swelled up around the stud and went red. I decided to change it sooner than recommended because I just wanted to get the stud out, in case that was the problem.
I took hold of the front bit and the back bit and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. Nothing. It was stuck! I couldn't get enough of my finger into my nostril to give the back a good tug. I started to worry. I was back home by this point so my uncle got involved, tugging and twisting and doing whatever he could think of. Eventually, he came up with a plan. He would use plyers (that's right, plyers) to force it open.
That's exactly what happened. He grabbed hold of the bit on the front of my nostril with one pair of plyers and wedged another pair up my nose to hold onto the back. Very rarely have I felt less dignified. He pulled, I winced, he tugged, I made ow noises... And finally it gave way and came off. I whipped another stud straight in and the swelling and redness subsided immediately.
I showed a friend the offending nose stud and she just laughed and told me it was an earring and that I'd been pierced with an earring gun. Great.
So anyway, I was then happy. Life went back to normal. Until six months later I got a new job and was told I couldn't wear jewelry. I took out the nose stud reluctantly and, eight hours later, I went home, clutching my nose stud, intending to put it back in.
I felt the place where my piercing had been and tried pushing the stud in. Nothing doing. I checked in a mirror but couldn't see a hole anymore. I pushed, I squeezed and I almost wept. It had closed. I would have to try re-piercing. So I got an ice cube, melted it with my fingers so it would fit up my nostril then tried pushing on the front of my nostril with the stud again.
And that's when it hit me. I wouldn't be able to re-pierce it. And actually, if something requires me to have plyers and moulded ice cubes stuck up my nose ... I think maybe I should let it go...
And so I did. I became one of the non-pierced masses. I was sad. But my life was easier.
No comments:
Post a Comment