I went along and got my dermals re-done today. I’d had them done four years ago and loooooved them. Then they grew out, which was sad and I missed them. Today I went back and got them put back in, in a slightly different place because of the scar tissue. The conversation with the dude at the piercing place went something like this: 

“I want my dermals redone, slightly higher up, here and here.” 
“Are you sure? You don’t want to scar your face.” 
“I quite like scars.” 
“You got them done here before, didn’t you? I remember you.” 
“Yes, I was the first person to get dermals done here.” 
“Who did them?” 
“You let that guy near your face?!” 
“Yes. With a scalpel.” 
“Well, our methods have changed since then… it should be less painful.” 
“Oh.” (disappointed face
“If you want it to be more painful, I can always punch you in the face afterwards.” 
“OK!” (slightly deranged grin

The guy sighed and passed me the piece of paper on which I swore that I was over 18 and didn’t have epilepsy or a heart condition or a baby growing inside me. 

We went downstairs and he did the right-hand side. It was at this point that he discovered exactly how much I bleed. Extensively and enthusiastically. I’m not sure why. I think my heart’s just really healthy, maybe. Anyway, after about twenty minutes (I kid you not) it stopped bleeding enough for me to be able to turn my head. As soon as I moved it bled again, so we ended up covering his piercing couch in paper and just hoping I wouldn’t bleed through it all. He pierced the other side, I was happy, it was done. Fucking awesome. 

I walked home feeling like I was floating on a cloud. I think getting my face pierced makes me feel the way other people feel when they get massages. I hate massages because I hate to be touched. But somehow, some bloke sticking metal in my face is really relaxing.

It’s been a really happy weekend. 🙂 

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