I’ve been wanting to do something wild for my upcoming 30th birthday. Something crazy and out of character to mark the occasion and soften the blow. It was then that a friend of mine got a vertical clitoral hood piercing. In case you didn’t know, that’s a bar or ring that runs through the top of the hood of skin that the clitoris hides under. Vertical piercings have the incredible benefit of laying right on top of your magic button. Can you think of a better birthday present?
I’m a wimp. I’m not a piercer. I have my ears pierced three times in my left ear and twice in my right- I couldn’t stand the pain of the third piercing in the second ear. Somehow I ended up with a tattoo, and I think the only reason I made it through was that I went numb about five minutes into a good twenty minute tattoo. This piercing intrigued me for reasons beyond the obvious. It was well off my beaten path. It was highly private- a dirty little secret that only myself and a few select people (to include the blogosphere at large) would know about. So I started the whole Google research process. The pictures (and let me say right now, there are some ugly effin’ lady parts out there!) were pretty cool, I liked the way they looked. The pain was supposedly minimal, as was the healing time. Disturbing things I ran into during my research: instructions for a diy VCH piercing, bondage tips (as in, how much weight will the piercing bear before failure.. *shudder*), rumors that these piercings would give you orgasms just from walking, and a few explicit descriptions of infection. Still, when I was done Googling, I was ready to make an appointment.
That’s when Mother Nature brought me my monthly gift. Oh, the joy. When Aunt Flo left town, I made plans to go the very next day. The friend who has this piercing offered to take me as an early birthday present, because she rocks. I wasn’t nervous. Well, I wasn’t that nervous. I knew it was going to be weird, and that it was going to hurt, but not that bad, and I also knew that the worst thing I could do was spend the whole day anticipating. I did have two shots of vodka before we left for the shop, because the idea of being completely and totally sober was a little intimidating.
When we walked into the shop, I was feeling warm and rosy from the vodka and a little nervous, and a lot excited. I filled out my paperwork, and one of the best female piercers in the state took me back into the piercing room. After all, you don’t let just anyone drive a needle through your lady bits.
Just like at the gyno, I had to strip from the waist down and lay down in the chair, where she had me scoot further and further down until she could easily get into my business. I was glad to see her gathering her supplies quickly, because being naked from the waist down in a black leather chair in a room with flowers hanging from the ceiling and a girl wearing a hippy dress was bringing the reality of the situation home awfully quickly.
She cleaned and inspected my delicate flower, slipping a cotton swab up into my hood to make sure I was suited to the piercing. I had done this two weeks ago in my bathroom, so I knew I was good. She marked her target, cleaned a little bit more, and peeked up from between my knees.
“Okay, we’re ready. Whatever you do, do NOT clamp my head between your knees or thighs. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth and focus on your breathing.”
My heart raced as I envisioned my knocking her out with my kneecaps, needle still shoved through my junk. I dismissed that thought and put my arms up over my head and grabbed the headrest of the piercing chair, hoping to prevent any issues with my legs slamming shut like a vise.
I took a deep breath in through my nose and let it out my mouth. As I exhaled, she drove the needle through the top of my hood and into the receiving tube.
It hurt like hell for all of two seconds. Literally, there was an awful, awful poke and then nothing. Until she inserted the curved barbell and screwed the balls on the ends. At some point in this process, she pinched me and I gasped. It was like skinning my knee but it was my delicate flower instead. Not cool.
She gave me an aftercare sheet and a pantyliner. I put my pants on and left the room. This is about the time it occurred to me that I felt really high. Endorphins and adrenaline and all.
Most people would have gone home. I went to an antiques auction and then went home with my friend. We stopped at the drug store and I bought some first aid saline and a spray bottle of bactine.
The next two days I spent at home, mopping and drinking and roasting hot dogs by the fire. I was careful when sitting down or getting up, and there were moments when it was a little sore. By Day 3, I could start to feel the sensation of that bar riding on my clit. It was by no means overwhelming, just a little zing when I moved a certain way. Days 4 and 5 were itchy days, but I can’t really complain about scratching that itch…
For the first six days, I used Bactine on the piercing twice a day, and saline in between a few times a day, when I thought about it. I think what I was most grateful for was that it never developed “crusties” like some other people said theirs did. If there’s one place you don’t want crusties, it’s probably your pink places.
At almost two weeks, I’ve completely disregarded the care sheet and am having no problems whatsoever. A ton of fun, but no problems.
I would do it again in two hot seconds.
It’s completely healed as far as I can tell, and I’ve already broken it in, but that’s another post! 😉