Tuesday - Boom!
Jul. 25th, 2006 02:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about my 30th birthday, which stands out in my memory because my co-workers all pitched in to have me mutilated. It’s the only time anything like has ever happened to me.
I was working for the Toll Road Authority, where I hung out with a group of women that I will call Priss, Psycho and Borderline, in honor of the fact that Priss was very prissy, Psycho was a bona fide sociopath (but Socio does not have the same ring as a pseudonym that Psycho does) and Borderline always tended to hijack everyone else's personality traits and adopt them as her own.
Borderline liked to plan things and make a fuss. Since it was my big Three-Oh, she decided to throw a party for me at a local nightspot the Friday before the event. She made the reservations, arranged for a cake, and told me to wear something "comfortable, but cute."
Most of the office turned out, I think because the nightclub was known for not having a cover charge and it was assumed that there would be free cake. An hour into the festivities, Borderline announced, "It's time!" She blindfolded me and escorted out of the club. Since none of these people ever did anything to hurt me before, I went along without a struggle.
They drove to a location about 10 minutes away, and sat me down in a hard plastic stacking chair. Someone was ordered to watch over me to make sure I didn't take off my blindfold while the rest of my friends went to another room to talk to someone. I peaked underneath the elastic hair band over my eyes and saw a the cheap linoleum floor of a commercial establishment. Above me I saw a suspended ceiling with florescent lights. In what sounded like a back room I heard a radio playing rock and roll. I detected the faint smell of rubbing alcohol in the air. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what sort of place I was in.
I heard footsteps and a guy asked, "This her?"
"It is," Borderline said, and she told me I could remove the blindfold. I pealed it off and blinked at the bright lights, trying to get my bearings as it slowly dawned on me that I was in a tattoo parlor.
"You're getting your navel pierced!" my compadres all said in unison.
"Everyone in the office pitched in!" Borderline said.
I gasped, stunned. "I was only kidding about that," I stammered. "Seriously."
"It's too late, you're here, now," I was told.
It had been a long-running joke. Borderline, Psycho and Priss were all pretty conservative. One day Psycho commented that she didn't understand why anyone would have body piercings, that it looked painful and disgusting. I piped up that Jeff found pierced bellybuttons sexy and that I was thinking about piercing mine. While Jeff really does have a thing for pierced bellies, I only said this to shock my friends. I didn't think that any of them would call my bluff.
"We're getting it done, too," Borderline said. She was refering to herself and Dawn, a woman from personnel. Despite my deep reservations, I had to save face. Besides, it was already paid for. Tightwad that I am, I have a hard time turning down anything when someone else has already forked over the money for. It looked like I was getting my navel pierced at the age of 30, as a birthday present paid for by the employees of a government agency. I wished I’d had another drink before we left the club.
As the birthday girl, I went first. The piercing guy, a kid no more than 20 years old, led me into a glass room. Only one person was allowed to come in with me, and that person turned out to be Patty. She wanted to get pierced, too, but couldn't afford it. We had only met a couple of times before that night. She had only recently come back to work at the administrative office from one of the toll plazas, and our rollercoaster friendship pretty much began that night when I held her hand as a curved metal rod was driven through the upper rim of my navel. I decided it didn't hurt much more that donating blood did. It was definitely survivable. Still, I decided to play up the pain for Borderline and Dawn watching through the window. I turned my head to the side and grimaced for the sake of drama.
"It really doesn't hurt that bad," I whispered to Patty, since the other two couldn't hear me.
"It really doesn't," the piercer agreed, dabbing the site with an alcohol soaked cotton ball. "Everyone only thinks it will."
Borderline went next while I held her hand. She had given birth before and declared that this was nowhere near as bad. Dawn came after her and grasped my hand as the piercer prepared. She looked around the room and focused on a chart demonstrating the technique for piercing a clitoral hood.
She pointed to it and looked at the piercer. "Can I ask you something? What kind of person has that done?"
He grinned. "You'd be surprised," he said, "Lots of people. Housewives and stuff. The thing is, it's supposed to make them more sensitive. You know, they'll just be walking down the stairs and 'Boom!'"
Dawn raised her eyebrows. "Boom, huh?"
He nodded and repeated, "Boom."
"Wow."
She flinched and squeezed my hand as he went to work. "That wasn't so bad," she said when it was over.
"Yeah, I guess I should have told you it wouldn't be," I said.
Back at the club, we showed off our newly adorned navels to our duly impressed coworkers. Jeff was delighted to see what had been done to me, though a little disappointed that I would not let him touch it (the pain of this type of piercing comes after the fact, as your body tries to heal itself). Seven birthdays and one pregnancy later, I no longer have the piercing, but the night stands out in my mind.
I still haven't decided if it was an indication of affection or distain, but it's the only time that people I worked with have paid cash to have someone hurt me.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
I was working for the Toll Road Authority, where I hung out with a group of women that I will call Priss, Psycho and Borderline, in honor of the fact that Priss was very prissy, Psycho was a bona fide sociopath (but Socio does not have the same ring as a pseudonym that Psycho does) and Borderline always tended to hijack everyone else's personality traits and adopt them as her own.
Borderline liked to plan things and make a fuss. Since it was my big Three-Oh, she decided to throw a party for me at a local nightspot the Friday before the event. She made the reservations, arranged for a cake, and told me to wear something "comfortable, but cute."
Most of the office turned out, I think because the nightclub was known for not having a cover charge and it was assumed that there would be free cake. An hour into the festivities, Borderline announced, "It's time!" She blindfolded me and escorted out of the club. Since none of these people ever did anything to hurt me before, I went along without a struggle.
They drove to a location about 10 minutes away, and sat me down in a hard plastic stacking chair. Someone was ordered to watch over me to make sure I didn't take off my blindfold while the rest of my friends went to another room to talk to someone. I peaked underneath the elastic hair band over my eyes and saw a the cheap linoleum floor of a commercial establishment. Above me I saw a suspended ceiling with florescent lights. In what sounded like a back room I heard a radio playing rock and roll. I detected the faint smell of rubbing alcohol in the air. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what sort of place I was in.
I heard footsteps and a guy asked, "This her?"
"It is," Borderline said, and she told me I could remove the blindfold. I pealed it off and blinked at the bright lights, trying to get my bearings as it slowly dawned on me that I was in a tattoo parlor.
"You're getting your navel pierced!" my compadres all said in unison.
"Everyone in the office pitched in!" Borderline said.
I gasped, stunned. "I was only kidding about that," I stammered. "Seriously."
"It's too late, you're here, now," I was told.
It had been a long-running joke. Borderline, Psycho and Priss were all pretty conservative. One day Psycho commented that she didn't understand why anyone would have body piercings, that it looked painful and disgusting. I piped up that Jeff found pierced bellybuttons sexy and that I was thinking about piercing mine. While Jeff really does have a thing for pierced bellies, I only said this to shock my friends. I didn't think that any of them would call my bluff.
"We're getting it done, too," Borderline said. She was refering to herself and Dawn, a woman from personnel. Despite my deep reservations, I had to save face. Besides, it was already paid for. Tightwad that I am, I have a hard time turning down anything when someone else has already forked over the money for. It looked like I was getting my navel pierced at the age of 30, as a birthday present paid for by the employees of a government agency. I wished I’d had another drink before we left the club.
As the birthday girl, I went first. The piercing guy, a kid no more than 20 years old, led me into a glass room. Only one person was allowed to come in with me, and that person turned out to be Patty. She wanted to get pierced, too, but couldn't afford it. We had only met a couple of times before that night. She had only recently come back to work at the administrative office from one of the toll plazas, and our rollercoaster friendship pretty much began that night when I held her hand as a curved metal rod was driven through the upper rim of my navel. I decided it didn't hurt much more that donating blood did. It was definitely survivable. Still, I decided to play up the pain for Borderline and Dawn watching through the window. I turned my head to the side and grimaced for the sake of drama.
"It really doesn't hurt that bad," I whispered to Patty, since the other two couldn't hear me.
"It really doesn't," the piercer agreed, dabbing the site with an alcohol soaked cotton ball. "Everyone only thinks it will."
Borderline went next while I held her hand. She had given birth before and declared that this was nowhere near as bad. Dawn came after her and grasped my hand as the piercer prepared. She looked around the room and focused on a chart demonstrating the technique for piercing a clitoral hood.
She pointed to it and looked at the piercer. "Can I ask you something? What kind of person has that done?"
He grinned. "You'd be surprised," he said, "Lots of people. Housewives and stuff. The thing is, it's supposed to make them more sensitive. You know, they'll just be walking down the stairs and 'Boom!'"
Dawn raised her eyebrows. "Boom, huh?"
He nodded and repeated, "Boom."
"Wow."
She flinched and squeezed my hand as he went to work. "That wasn't so bad," she said when it was over.
"Yeah, I guess I should have told you it wouldn't be," I said.
Back at the club, we showed off our newly adorned navels to our duly impressed coworkers. Jeff was delighted to see what had been done to me, though a little disappointed that I would not let him touch it (the pain of this type of piercing comes after the fact, as your body tries to heal itself). Seven birthdays and one pregnancy later, I no longer have the piercing, but the night stands out in my mind.
I still haven't decided if it was an indication of affection or distain, but it's the only time that people I worked with have paid cash to have someone hurt me.
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Date: 2006-07-25 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-25 10:23 pm (UTC)