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Friday, December 15, 2017

Piercings Begone!

by quinne anderson (writer), Los Angeles, October 21, 2006

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Yesterday I looked up at my friend Sarah, and told her that she had "a bat in the cave." I thought I was doing her a solid, being a good pal, alerting her to the booger waving at me from within her nostril. When she finally understood what I was talking about, she laughed it off. "Oh, no, that's just my nose ring."
Now for Sarah, with her adorably perky little button nose, I will find it in my heart to forgive. But to the rest of my fellow aging Gen Xers, I shout, "What were you thinking?!" I know, I know. I sound like all of our mothers.
Thanks to the resurgence of the popularity of tattoos -- which I actually abhor only one iota less than piercings -- we have seen a steady diminishing of the metal-stuck-through-body-parts theme. But don't even get me going on the lower back tattoo--the tramp stamp. Do these unthinking drones listen to Britney Spears in a drunken Cancun-esque stupor while they get these inanities inked on their bodies? I swear, if I see one more white person with an Asian character permanently ingrained into their flesh, I will stab myself in the eyes with a dulled pencil! It doesn't really say "happiness," moron. It's the Japanese symbol for "ignorant fat American."
I digress. Throughout the nineties, my eyes were plagued by visions of stainless steel, glittering and glinting in the sunlight, distracting my attention from the expressions on people's faces. Instead I found myself staring at a ridiculous metal bar, slicing its way through an eyebrow. Or a ring attempting garish femininity, bobbing up and down on the lower lip of a girl with something to prove. Then, of course, there's the belly ring. We get it. Your abs are flat. We can all see that because of the battalions of midriff-baring halters you wear on a daily basis. You've got a great tummy, we all appreciate (or envy) it. So why, my dear, do you have to go and hang Christmas decorations on it? Or worse yet, the chubby girl with the belly ring, who loves to show it off, and has no idea that her abdomen is spilling forth over the lip of her too-tight jeans. I shudder to think.
Then there are those, of course, who get piercings in their sexual organs. Maybe that has something to do with mommy or daddy and their lack of childhood involvement. I don't know. Once again, I may be a stick-in-the-mud. But I much prefer a cock and a tongue in my clit than a cold nub of steel. Or the Prince Albert, shaft through shaft... You know, honestly, I don't even want to go there, neither figuratively nor literally.
Since my stomach is now churning at the thought of needle through dick, allow me to touch on the tongue ring. Perhaps the most obnoxious piercing of all, the newly acquired tongue ring was constantly showcased by its bearer. Everyone I've ever known with a tongue ring made it painfully obvious to everyone else that they had one. They'd twist their tongues, flip them, bang the piercing against their teeth with a loud clanking sound. Whatever it would take to draw the attention. But the sad part is the farce that all of their tongue gymnastics were performed unconsciously. Bitches, please. The only reason you got that tongue ring in the first place was to supplement your pathetic lack of real sexual appeal with something that would allude to sex. You hope that even though people don't think about sex when they look at you, that seeing the stud in your tongue will make something stir in their loins. Well, it makes something stir around down there all right, but I think they call it "bile."
My least favorite piercing, however, is the aberration that gets placed in the vicinity of the Cindy Crawford beauty mark. Could something be more hideously distracting? When I'm talking with a chick who's got one of these studs in her face, I can not, simply can not focus on anything else. It's like the roving mole on Richard Lewis's face in "Robin Hood: Men in Tights." It's perverse, it's ugly, it's unconscionable. There's no real explanation; it just is.
But back to the nose ring, which actually never bothered me so potently. Somehow it escaped the brand of "Ugh." Perhaps because it's discreet and invariably small, perched innocuously on the side of an already lovely facial feature. Because by some stroke of fate or good luck, only girls who know they have the perfect nose for a nose ring get them. You don't see girls like me, with a bit of a potato nose, parading around with jewelry stabbed through it, highlighting its bulbous nature. The bearers of nose rings are at least blessed with a modicum of taste.
Let it be known that I don't take an immediate dislike to individuals with piercings. I don't judge a person's worth by their trappings. I focus on more pertinent characteristics: sense of humor, honesty, intelligence, etc. A nice ass never hurt, either. I just don't like piercings. I herald with joy and relief the end of their heyday.



About the Writer

quinne anderson is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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3 comments on Piercings Begone!

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By Annonymous on October 21, 2006 at 02:08 pm
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