Sore nipple (warning - gratuitous nipple talk!)

I decided to give myself a treat after receiving a good score for my TMA (previous post). So, after dropping the kids off at school and ignoring the persistent voice in my head that said 'Why are you doing this? Go and put your feet up and read a book instead!', I caught the Metro into Newcastle and went in search of the Blue Lotus piercing studio for a nipple piercing.

     Unfortunately, the place didn't open until 11, so I was left with 90 minutes to kill. I sat in Starbucks with a Vanilla Spiced Latte and a good book (sounds bliss), followed by a Skype call with the hubby in China. But all I could think about was a long pointy needle and a bleeding nipple. 'Why are you doing this you mad cow? Who's going to see it anyway?' But my mind was made up and I couldn't stand the thought of disappointing myself in such a cowardly fashion. So I browsed the shelves in Waterstones (picked up a copy of David Moody's Dog Blood for 99p!!) then forced myself onward to the studio.

     Luckily, the place was empty. I had been told that there was usually a queue of people in there waiting to get pierced (apparently it's all the fashion, but what the hell would I know). I wasn't looking forward to sitting there amongst a room full of students, all wondering what an almost-middle-aged woman was doing there: 'Is she lost? Does she think this is the Dentist? That's next door ...'. Then, before I had a chance to find a reason to back out (wrong time of the month, wearing a non-supportive bra, forgot to feed the cat ...) I was whisked into the piercing room (it really was like the dentists'!) and told to strip. Well, the top half, anyway. That was weird. I wasn't on a beach or getting into bath, but there I was standing semi-naked while someone stared very intently at my boobs. And although I was aware of the damage caused by breast-feeding my delightful offspring it didn't make it any more comfortable to see how exaggerated her eye movements were in order to take in both of my nipples. 'Can't you see them both in one glance? Maybe if you stand further back ...' I thought. She asked me which one I wanted done. I asked her if it mattered, aren't they both the same? Obviously not. They were once, you know. In the past. So I told her to pick whichever one was best. She chose the left. I have to agree, my left boob is far better than my right one. I think the bairns used to tug harder on the right one.

     'Look away, deep breath in ...'

     'Aaaggghhhhh f**k'

     Then it was done. She told me to look at it in the mirror. That was a bit embarrassing. I wasn't entirely sure how long to look for or what to say, but I was feeling mightily relieved it was over. I got dressed, paid and left. And as I did so I was sure I could hear a '...polishing a turd ...' being whispered behind me!