2. Get my ears re-pierced


I arrived at ‘Frontiers Tattoo and Piercing Parlour’, HighStreet, Cardiff at 1.15pm, only to find that the piercer was at lunch until 1.45. I did feel at that point that there was a possibility that the world was trying to tell me to give up on ear-repiercing, since this was the second time this week I’d made the attempt… at least today I was well-informed enough to avoid the mania that is student-discount-Wednesday. But feeling resolute (and not wanting to have paid for another hour of Cardiff city centre parking for nowt), I sauntered off to get a sandwich and dutifully returned half an hour later.

Next step was the consent form. Yes, I’m over 16.

Then the negotiation. Yes, I want them re-pierced in exactly the same place; they closed up at least 10 years ago.

And the payment. £15 for both lobes, cash only.

“Upstairs please and take a seat in the waiting area.” (That was the hardest bit, as ‘upstairs’ was accessed at the back of the tattooing area and I had to walk through the sight and sound of needles and ink). A brief wait, and then I was ushered in by Jessica, a relatively daintily pierced/tattooed girl, who claimed to be an experienced piercer despite looking to me as if she might be at home in one of my GCSE English classes….

I sat on the ‘piercing couch’, wondered briefly about the necessity of a couch at all, and then dismissed all thoughts of which parts of the anatomy may have been there before my precious lobes. Jessica penned tiny dots on my ears for me to check the position, and offered me a choice of stud colours. (Is it incredibly boring to have plumped for the plain silver?!). Then she swabbed each ear with an antiseptic wipe, donned her disposable black vinyl gloves, and assembled the necessary paraphernalia, whilst I averted my eyes. “You’ll feel a slight pinch,” she informed me, “nothing terrible – I’m sure you’ve felt worse pain.” I joked that I’d had two kids. And hoped that I didn’t embarrass myself by fainting. “Deep breath in,” she instructed, “and breathe out…” And there was one, done! Repeat for lobe two, and ‘voila!’ (OK, the second one was a little more hurty, but on the whole the procedure was pretty painless).

And so, dear reader, I scuttled back to the car park, just making it back inside an hour, sporting my freshly re-pierced ears and smiling to myself. Just 6 weeks of bathing them in salt water and I’ll be free to adorn them with funky/tasteful/shiny jewellery. Best put earrings on my birthday list then….


[two down, 48 to go]


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