I am lying on a chair at Hot Rod Piercing Company on Oakland Avenue, my heart almost beating… I am lying on a chair at Hot Rod Piercing Company on Oakland Avenue, my heart almost beating out of my chest and my shirt pulled up to expose my stomach. I already have ten piercings, but they are all in my ears. At almost 21, I am finally taking the big leap and piercing my belly button.

Why now? My sister wanted hers pierced for her 17th birthday and I thought, “Well there’s no better time than the present.”

She insisted that I go first, even though she would have to watch the procedure. “I watched when Mary Lou got hers done,” she says as she shrugs her shoulders. That’s just fine with me, because I cannot stomach the sight of needles.

“Are you all ready?” the piercer asks me.

I grab for my sister’s hand and squeeze hard as I shut my eyes. I feel the piercing artist pull my skin and put the clamp onto it. There is a slight pinch as the needle breaks my skin, but that’s not the worst part. I can feel the needle actually sliding the whole way through. Those few seconds felt like a few minutes.

“Ok, now I am just going to put the barbell in,” he explains.

I can feel a lot of tugging, but it doesn’t hurt much, it’s just a little uncomfortable. He twists the ball into the ring and I am all done. I stand up and walk right to the mirror, my heart still racing from the adrenaline rush. I am afraid to put my shirt back down because I was worried that if the fabric so much as brushed against it, it would hurt like hell.

So now I have 11 piercings. Will I go for 12? Maybe, but who knows how long it will take me to gather the courage again.