quickley

Oi.

J'ai eu mal 'a yeule.

Let me explain the oral nightmare that I've undergone in the past few weeks.

On Tuesday, there was an incident with a giant blood-thirsty roast beef sandwich.

By Wednesday morning, my lower lip was twice it's natural size, and the back of my labret was lost. Embedded in swollen lipness. A panicked trip to the piercer reveals that the Sandwich was the culprit, and after several attepts at replacing it with asthetically pleasing jewelery, one scary as hell slip of the pliers, and I get sent home with a huge 14ga black titanium curved barbell.

I look like a thug.

There's a Wednesday night date. He doesn't think so.

Thursday morning light shows the date is in posession of a coldsore. Run to the mirror proves my formerly cracked lip now is too. Scheduled trip to the piercer is subsequently painful. 14ga reduced to 16ga black titanium curved barbell.

I still look like a thug.

Sunday afternoon trip to the piercer. Diagnoses... carry on. Come back on Tuesday. Sunday afternoon date doesn't think I look like a thug either.

Monday morning is cold as fuck. Because I'm not as smart as I look, I step out without a scarf. The lower left-hand corner of my face turns my usual summer shade of crimson. Monday afternoon date also does not find this, the cracked lip, or the huge jewelery off-putting.

All this kissing boys can't be helping my situation. So I swear off.

Tuesday morning finds most of the redness in my face has dissipated. I now, however, have a marble-sized windburn blister milimeters from the piercing.
Panic.

Work at the shop requires excessive safety gear.

Tuesday afternoon trip to the piercer results in the following statements by Assaf, the king of pokin' holes at Nezem:
"NANETTE! YOU'RE FREAKIN' ME OUT!"
"Well, I'll tell you one thing, you're cool under pressure."

Blister dealth with. Expensive wound-wash purchased. Back on Thursday, when we discover that the piercing itself is fine. It's just the rest of my face that's sudenly freaking out around it.

And finally, a week and a half later, my chapped lips are gone, my burn would is healing slowly, and although I've still got a temporary rhinestone studd in instead of my silver ball, I no longer feel like wearing a Burkha everytime I leave my house.

It doesn't hurt to smile anymore.

I must make a plug for Assaf, and Nezem piercing studio, though. Customer service king. Fixin' me right up, bein' a swell guy, and givin' me deals on fancy mouthwashes and future work. Develop a relationship with your piercer. It's a good idea.