Wednesday, May 20, 2009

and just like that, it was gone...


One day, I had a bright idea.

I was going to get my tongue pierced.

Why, you may ask?

Maybe it's because I was bored, as I frequently get. I wasn't really ready for another tattoo, am in the process of growing my hair so I couldn't cut it, and I had just cut my fingernails and stripped them of their fingernail polish, again.

So, again surfaced the idea of piercing my tongue, the ultimate of all "I'm a bad ass" moves. (Saying "I'm a bad motherfucker" sounded good in my head, but I wasn't sure how good it would sound in your head... so I stuck with "bad ass.")

So, I got it pierced last Friday. And boy, was I so excited. I thought it would just be so sexy. One, because things that other people can't seem to understand, I find inexplicably hot. Like when I cut my hair, and no one seemed to be able to figure out something so relatively simple. I knew no one would probably understand this move... thereby, making it sexy as shit to me.

I got it pierced... and it didn't hurt that badly, and it didn't swell as badly as I thought. This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, I found myself thinking, not in Bogart's voice, though, only in my own. I mean, how sexy would it be, the combination of the girl who likes to stick her tongue out all the time, and the resulting tongue jewelry? Match made in Heaven, no doubt.

Unbeknownst
to me, it wasn't that sexy. Granted, I liked it, I thought it was cool, and honestly, I probably didn't give it enough time, as I was informed by various VIPs, but I don't think I would have gotten over the fact that my infamous tongue-sticking-out-of-mouth motion would now forever be impeded by the barbell in my tongue. I'm sure I could have gotten a shorter one, but if I had to live one more second with the bottom of the bar rubbing a sore on my gum, I don't know what I would have done. Not to mention while kissing (with closed-mouth, mind you), I spent so much time concentrating on not hurting myself that I robbed myself of the joy of one of my favorite activities (love-making with the tongue, that is).

I couldn't imagine it... never again would I be able to run the toothbrush straight down my tongue, and never again would I be able to stick food directly on the middle of my tongue without pushing the barbell backward... never again would I be able to spit without having to move the barbell out of the way with my tongue... I'd have to learn how to kiss all over again? I'd never be able to lick a lollipop again?

Okay, so maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. Needless to say, after trying to eat pizza (pizza is not made to be eaten on the side of your mouth, it's meant to be placed in the middle of your mouth), I got a pair of latex gloves, and grabbed the barbell in the picture above, and felt a flush of relief when I felt the ball on the end coming loose.

The residual hole in my tongue is very nice, in the sense that it's neat, and it's quite cute, but I hope that by Friday or Saturday, it's gone like it never existed. It was fun while it lasted, but I missed my tongue and all its notorious glamour.

I still have my nose piercing, after all.

No comments:

Unless otherwise indicated, all words here are property of Miss Malorie

MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected