So my "This is what 43 looks like" picture was taken about a week after my birthday - but it still counts. And I think I look pretty damn good for my age. :)
( Here's to no longer being The Answer... )
I remember that I'd met him after the show was over - he was talking to a mutual friend of ours (who just passed away at the end of June) and I was shocked to see that he had long hair underneath the Eddie wig. Apparently the shock was pretty obvious, because he'd made a comment about wanting to do that to new cast members from now on (taking off the wig and showing his actual hair).
Well as far as I know, he hasn't done that to any of the new cast members. Probably forgot about it in the months since it happened. Anyways - this time, for my birthday show, I'm not as much of a newbie as I was last year. I know more people on cast...and I also asked M. to come up for my show if he'd feel so inclined. Which I must have been a very good (or bad) girl, because he's coming up for the show and will be giving me the birthday spanking this year. And so it doesn't look too suspect, he's coming up to do the tech thing during the show because tech was needed.
Why am I doing this? A couple of reasons: 1) I remembered a conversation I'd had eons ago with M. where he'd asked me when I first realized that I liked girls - I told him that it was probably when I saw the unedited version of Duran Duran's "Girls On Film" video. I was about 12 - and I got to rent a VHS of Duran Duran videos while visiting my dad in the South. I remember being scandalized and kind of turned on by the half-naked women, as well as hoping that my dad wouldn't walk in and bust me watching the video and think *all* of the videos were like this.
And 2) a conversation that I'd had with M. today, about his performing in Rocky Horror tonight...with the possibility of family members in attendance. Family that doesn't know that he's involved with Rocky Horror. He'd told me about this last week, so I texted him to wish him luck on his possibly "coming out" to family. The gist of the conversation:
Me: I saw your mention of the show tonight...and I remembered that you mentioned possibly having family show up there.
Him: Yup. We shall see.
Me: I'll be thinking of you - and if they show up, good luck with your "coming out" to them. :)
Him: Awwww :) Thank you, darlin' :)
Me: You're welcome. :) and think of it this way - yours will be easier than mine! At least you didn't have to come out as a lesbian, then later say...yeah, actually it's bisexual and always has been.
Him: True that. Rocky may actually be easier to explain, sort of.
Me: Yeah - it's all still homoerotic. ;) Just not as girl-on-girl.
Him: *hugs* Silly :)
So several hours after that conversation, he's playing Criminologist (Crim) to an enthusiastic crowd that may or may not include family members and I'm just tipsy enough to look at some photos that were taken of me...to give the OK on which ones I want for keeps.
If you haven't seen "Girls On Film" (the Night Version) - oh my lovelies. It's 35 years old, mind you...but still really hot. MTV banned it for the nudity and the fact that it's pretty much soft-core porn without any sexytimes happening. Now in 2016, the censors might let some of it slide - but would still ban the rest.
And proof that I was/am drinking beer from a can, with a straw (don't hate...and don't look at me like that):
She was right about that one. Except no one told me how to deal with someone making me feel as though I'm being privately judged for how I was dressed the other night. Especially when that someone was the guy that I tried to get together with before M and I got involved.
Some back story - this was for Rocky Horror, and I typically dress pretty casually: t-shirt or sweater and jeans. Nothing suggestive or particularly sexy, unless it's a theme night or Halloween. This time, we were doing a fundraiser for a fellow cast member whose family recently lost their home in a fire, and the fundraiser was going to involve us being given money as a vote for who should wear silly underwear for the duration of the show. I was willing to join in - but panicked and backed out by the time that I got to the theater. Still, I was there in a low-cut top with cleavage on display. And any time that the guy walked past and I made eye contact - he walked past like I had the plague. Or as I told M, it's probably the first time that my tits were a repellant to someone. The whole time, he (the guy - not M) had me feeling like someone's Disapproving Dad, ready to shame me for baring as much as I did. And what really made me feel that way was the fact that the only time he actually talked to me was at the end of the night when I had my jacket on and zipped all the way up.
I don't know why it bothered/bothers me. Maybe it's because I felt like "I thought we were cool, even though we didn't work out. What the hell is this?" Or maybe he's just like "...fucking dyke putting it out there like that" and just has his own problems (like creeping on some of the women on cast at one point - and being called out for it, as well as propositioning a fellow (female) cast mate who turned him down). Whatever. At least M helped me feel better about the situation - his take on it was that it could've been a case of not wanting to be caught staring/leering and getting lectured about sexual harrassment.
( For the record, this is what I was wearing... )
Last night, even thought all of the tickets were sold - we still had some available seats in the theater. I'm guessing that people bought tickets online and forgot about them...or whatever. But no matter - the Halloween crowd had more energy, and was more into the movie than the Friday night crowd seemed to be.
I did see M at last night's show - got to tease him a little over the fact that he'd (only) liked all of my pictures on Facebook. His response was something along the lines of "if you'd posted bad ones, I wouldn't have liked them..." Fair enough, I guess. And since there was actual seating in the back of the theater, we got to sit together for a little while. Well...sit together, and talk. Which is how I found out that he'd been attracted to me since he'd officially met me in August. Honestly, I'd thought he was pretty fucking cute around the same time - but I think I was trying to pursue something with someone else, which obviously hadn't worked out.
Still, I told him about my best (guy) friend - and the fact that he and I occasionally perv on each other. Didn't really go into detail on that, because that could be a long-ass conversation, so I just left it at "I've been friends with him for however long...and sometimes we perv on each other. And I think that anyone that I date would have to be okay with that..." I didn't get to mention that said friend happens to be out of state, though...lol
I did end up making out with M last night. It was fun, and I definitely felt something with him - so it's about more than being enamored with the idea of making out with someone this time. And because we were trying to get the prop kits moving earlier in the night, a fellow cast mate and I were offering up cleavage - aka "Kits and Tits" - I was playing kind of fast and loose with my goods, and complimented highly on them by M. I'd just said that they were pretty decent - but I live my whole life with them, so what do I know? All of this is to say that M did cop a feel - well, through a rather padded bra, I'm afraid. But he did seem to be quite appreciative - and asked before he touched me. It was kind of funny that he'd said that he'd under-appraised my chest, because it was more amazing than what he'd originally thought it to be. (Again, Praise Be to Torrid's Push-up Bra and I'm taking that with a few grains of salt, because he was probably headed towards horny from the making out and touching boobs - but still, very flattered.)
This past Friday night (the 23rd), I did my volunteering with one theater group - the San Francisco Neo-Futurists - for a one-night-only show in Oakland. They did a "Best Of" with some of their favorite plays from this year - most of which I've seen before, and several I hadn't because they were before my time (so to speak). It was a lot of fun; a great, enthusiastic crowd and a unique venue - the backyard of an arts collective.
After the show, the sound/tech guy and I were sitting on a couch and talking with a couple of people; I don't remember what the exact context of the conversation was, but it turned out that he and I had a few parallels when it came to relationships - namely, being divorced in the same year. The people we were talking to joked about it being a "Parent Trap" situation and how it was like we were probably married to each other and meant to be together again. (Yeah,...No. He's really nice, but I don't know his type of woman and all that. Also it was his last week with the theater group. *sad face*)
Then on my way home after all of that fun, I ended up with a kid (quite literally a kid...he was around my sister's age - 25) trying to put the moves on me. Best part was his asking me what I was studying in college. It didn't faze him when I laughed at the question - although it did go over his head when I told him "the last time I was in college, you were a toddler". So I just flat-out told him my age. He almost dropped his jaw and said "You don't look 42! It's your attitude, and the way you dress. You look so much younger." And then he kept trying to put the moves on me. I gave him a fake name and a probably out of service phone number, because I doubt that I'm going to see the kid again anytime before the 6th of Never.
Saturday night (aka last night) was Rocky Horror in Pittsburg, CA. Or, as some people in San Francisco probably think of it - East Jesus. Yeah, it's still in the Bay Area - just a ways out there. But it was a fun show - even if our truck with the props broke down en route, and we only had maybe half the usual props (the show must go on)! The venue served beer and wine, so the crowd was rowdier than a usual Halloween crowd might be otherwise.
It's great to see the show at venues other than my "home" theater, because the set ups are so different - one venue may have more space than another, or you might have an actor in dual roles, or the truck with all of your props breaks down halfway to the theater...and you risk doing what a fellow cast member called "Thornton Wilder's 'Rocky Horror Picture Show'"
Afterwards, we stuck around to help clean up because we're decent people and we know that the show can be kind of messy - what with the toilet paper, playing cards, glow sticks and confetti poppers littering the floor - and I got to be kind of snarky and dirty-minded with a few cast members: when someone griped about the floors being wet (from spilled beer/wine/whatever else), I'd said that he should be happy that we weren't cleaning up jizz as well. That started a bit of back and forth about how there could be spunk on the ground - I said that that's why we gave out the gloves, and also why I was glad to be female...I could be more discreet. [For the record, if this was happening with the friend I was crashing with - would I have the same conversation? Oh probably. Since we'd determined that we're better as friends, I don't care if he gets something for the spank bank from hearing that I masturbate. Or that he saw me braless at his place this morning.]
And yes.... Crashing with the aforementioned friend. That went pretty well - I don't sleep very soundly at another person's house, especially since I worry about over-sleeping, but getting about 6 hours' was pretty fine for me. When we were both more awake, we hung out and watched some "Tales From The Crypt" and an episode of MST3K before he took me home.
So yes, it was a good weekend. Now I have this week - I'm going to The Bird And The Bee on Wednesday night (yay live music!), then two consecutive nights of Rocky Horror on home turf! And hopefully I'll be getting a few of my friends to come to the movie - at least one, possibly two have committed. I may be able to get a third (if I can get a ticket...that may convince him) if he doesn't have prior commitments.
Because you see, when you're living at home and still under the pretense of being a Good Mormon Girl(TM), you're not supposed to be having any sort of sex life. With yourself, with the same sex and definitely not with the opposite sex. So when I was doing the (supposedly sinful) things I was doing, it was all under the threat of a Midnight or maybe 1 a.m. curfew...I can't remember.
So there was no curling up in bed and snuggling after a great orgasm. Instead it was a rush to get dressed and get my ass home, with a make-out in the car or at the doorstep to send me off until the next time we hooked up. Or maybe a rush to get to school or work, depending up who I was involved with at the time.
The only time I stayed overnight with a guy, it was my GBF - Gay Best Friend/Gay Boyfriend (and he was both - we "dated" until one of us found someone, which of course - he found someone first. While it was short-lived, it was fun.) I stayed the night on his couch, and we went to school the next day. I told my parents that I was staying with a (female) friend. No harm, no foul.
Fast-forward 20 years...and in the span of two months, I will be spending the night with two different guys. For entirely platonic reasons, mind you. I find it almost amusing, that in the time that I was fucking around with guys...never even came up with some lame excuse to stay the night with them, ever. Now, I have stayed (and will be staying) with guy friends - and it's just a matter of "it's way too late to be traveling - stay here and sleep on my couch, then head out in the morning." Friends looking out for each other.
I was talking to someone about it recently, mentioning the strangeness of it all - how it's different now, from when I was in my 20s. And I was asked how I felt about it, about the invitations being extended by my (male) friends. I said that I felt appreciated. Another way I felt - but didn't mention, was cared for. I'd almost say "loved" - but I've only known both of these people for a short time, and that feels like a pretty loaded word, to be honest. Maybe "accepted" by them - and into their respective groups - is a better descriptor.
And oddly enough, I'm okay with it. Not just because I don't have to worry over the whole "great! now there's no worry over feeling like I'll be pushed out of the cast if things get weird between us." (From a conversation I'd had with another cast member, he'd joined by way of a girlfriend at the time - and while their relationship had ended, he'd obviously stayed on cast and she must have left.) Or "I don't have to worry about losing a friend because things went beyond us making out/us becoming boyfriend-girlfriend/whatever".
Besides, we'd talked in the beginning about what we wanted from a relationship - and while we had similar intentions, the geography just doesn't work out the best for anything beyond the occasional hanging out and seeing each other at Rocky Horror. So we're better as friends. Talking about music, movies, our jobs and life in general.
Honestly, I'd rather have friends right now. Much more fun and far less complicated.
( Here is where I talk about my crush object/friend... Good times. )
So that's what's going on there right now. I don't really know what to call this thing - I just call it a friendship, or maybe very very casual dating at best. I just know that right now I keep an emotional distance by calling it a "crush", and reminding myself of the words of Gerard Way: "It's not love if it's just fucking" (I'd ask where was this advice when I needed it 20 years ago; but I have a feeling that 20 years ago, Gerard Way was probably still trying to figure that one out for himself as well....)
The other night, he ended up in the city (SF) after wrapping up an assignment - so we hung out together. It was nice, and gave us an opportunity to actually talk beyond the brief conversations at Rocky Horror and the near non-sequitur conversations that some of our text messages had been lately. We talked about our families; how we'd gotten into Rocky Horror; and most importantly, what we're looking for with relationships. And it turns out that on the last one, we may be on a similar wavelength - mainly looking for friendship, not particularly interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone. Like I told him, I'd dated around in my 20s, I was with one person/married in my 30s, and I want to spend my 40s single.
Also, even though he knew that I was divorced - I could've sworn that I'd told him that my ex was an ex-wife (it's part of my how I came to Rocky Horror story...), not an ex-husband. He thought that I was straight! So he was kind of surprised when I just came right out and said something about having to disappoint my mom by going from being married to a woman to being bisexual.
Anyways.... fast-forward to the end of the night. Things have gone well, he was very nice - a gentleman the whole time - even walked me to my door. And kissed me good-night. Well, it was more like a good-night make out. But still. The first kiss I'd had with anyone in a few years - and the first time I'd kissed a guy in well over 10+ years. And yes, I would definitely kiss him again. As I told him, I'm definitely into hot and heavy make-outs...if nothing else. ;-)
And in the past several months, I've even gotten a few that live within the same area as me (yay actually getting out and doing things)! Anyways, one of those friends happens to be a previously discussed platonic crush - the guy. It turns out that we'll be attending the same concert at the end of the month, so we're going to make plans to meet up at the show and hang out. In the meantime, we've been talking to each other a lot which is pretty cool.
I'm enjoying it, because I get to know him beyond the brief conversations before - and sometimes after - Rocky Horror, and our occasional interactions online. Also, because we're in the same industry - just different aspects of it - we sometimes talk about what we do, so it's actually kind of nice to talk with someone that understands what you do and doesn't give you that confused dog expression.
He's getting to know me as I am - a sometimes foul-mouthed dork that loves music, movies and people in general. I'm getting to find out that he's pretty decent as well - and I hope that we can continue to develop a friendship over time.
What makes it awkward is that one of my friends on Facebook (well, he's more like a friend of a friend), while well-meaning, is kind of annoying when it comes to the whole relationship thing. I'd mentioned something about one of the frustrations of having seizures being that afterwards I'm alone and don't have someone to reach out to for reassurance - I wasn't looking for pity, just venting - and in response I got "You've got the job, now you just need the spouse!"
Later, when I'd posted that picture of myself in the wee hours after my 42nd birthday - he commented that "the person that divorced me was crazy, that I'm a fantastic person, blah blah blah..." Just going on and on about how good of a person I am, almost like he was trying to trash-talk Kellie or something. Again, I took a diplomatic approach and said something to the effect of "Divorce happens, and that we're both happier and better off apart." (because it's true) The bad part is that *my mom* seemed to join in on the friend's chorus of my virtues. Ugh. Thanks...but not necessary, people.
But, all of that aside, I do have what I think of as "platonic crushes" on a couple of people. I call them that because the people I like, I have become friends with and my crushes on them are kind of on that level - although I'd have no problem with either person kissing me if they felt so inclined.
It's kind of doubtful though, because the girl I like has a girlfriend that she adores - and her girlfriend is really fucking nice and I don't want to interfere in that happiness. As for the guy, I'm thinking that it may not go beyond friends - even though he is straight, and I think he may have the idea that I'd go for a guy - I don't know his relationship status or even if he's looking for a relationship with anyone.
So I'm content to have those occasional crushes; sometimes flirt with people and have it just be that; and want to have never-ending conversations with smart people about things that interest us.
This year, I turned 42 and I made sure that it was a good birthday compared to last year's somber affair.
Last year, if I remember correctly, I had a small celebration in the office with my (at the time) new boss and co-workers; went to therapy that evening and took myself out for dinner the next night. Then again when you're mid-divorce, you're not exactly in a party mood.
But this time around, since I'd been expanding my social circle by volunteering with a local theater group as one of their house managers, as well as attending Rocky Horror Picture Show monthly - and eventually being recruited to join the cast (don't get too excited, my lovelies - yes! I did join, and I'm currently selling the prop kits to the audience...but they do recruit actors from within their ranks, and I could be moving up to Transylvanian in the next year...lol).
Anyways, those involvements had led to a far better - and far less lonely - birthday this year! Friday night, I did my house management thing with the theater group - I'd mentioned to one of the actors the week before that it was going to be my birthday, but didn't think anything would happen. So I was surprised when they called me up to sing "Happy Birthday" to me (the cast - and an audience of about 40something people)! After the show, when I went to purchase one of their T-shirts - the cast member selling them said to me "your money's no good! It's a gift from us!"
The next evening, I went to Rocky Horror Picture Show - being done in Menlo Park - mainly to see how the setup worked, because this particular theater is different from San Francisco in that there is actual floor space allowing for more involved props (like an Eddie casket!) that we don't get for the SF show. Again, I get called up to the front for my birthday (this time, I was aware of it happening) - and get "Happy Birthday" sung to me by about 100 people, as well as a birthday spanking from the co-director. Let's say that the wooden handle of a feather duster - even with my big butt - painful!!
After that show - since it was also a farewell to four cast members - a big group of us went out for breakfast. I sat at an end of the table with some tech people and a couple of the actors, and got to hear talk about theme shows they want to do ("Rocky Horror - Where Are They Now?" - "Charles Gray (the criminologist) is dead, and we've got the skeleton already"), songs that Frank N. Furter should come out to during cast introductions (the "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood" theme was put out as an idea - I almost died laughing), and the time that a fellow cast member (who wasn't there to explain himself) had slipped out of character as the wheelchair-bound Dr. Scott and walked onto the stage mid-scene! I laughed at that one and said "Well, our disclaimer does promise bad acting!"
And finally.... as I'd posted on Facebook, this is what 42 looks like:
I want to confess something. Something that isn't fun, or glamourous. It's not something that people will have a Pride event or Awareness Day/Week/Month for. Actually, I think it's something that the people living through it (like me) would rather hide it out of fear, embarrassment, shame and not wanting to be looked at differently by those we love and care about.
I am a hoarder. I'm not a hoarder of the caliber that you see on TV, where people can barely navigate through their living spaces because of all of their things. It's not at that level, but it's bad enough that a room cleaning that would take anyone else an hour or two takes me several days, because I feel a need to go through every. single. thing. to see if I wanted to keep it for whatever absolutely minor reason, afraid to lose it and need it down the line. Or I'd buy something, put it aside and forget I have it because it would get buried under a pile of magazines, newspapers, clothes and trash...and I'd have to re-buy it. Only to end up with three partially used sticks of deodorant; three open boxes of Q-Tips; four bottles of nail polish remover - all used to various levels; two unopened packs of razors - as well as the just-opened pack in the bathroom. You get the idea.
The other day, I got a call from the building manager that he needed to come by our house to inspect the rooms later this week. (We'd had some "unwelcome visitors" in the kitchen last month, apparently. Ugh.) This has motivated me to start working on clearing out my wreck of a room in the house. Maybe halfway through the clean-up, and I've already taken out 11 bags of garbage. It almost feels like a (short-distance) walk of shame every time I take the bags out of my room and to the curb. Like I'd gotten to this point, how could I do it? But I'm trying to not berate or belittle myself because that won't do any good. All I can do is acknowledge that I'm trying to make progress. Even if I end up with 20 garbage bags at the curb, and maybe two bags of clean clothes for donation. It's far better than where I'd started: with hardly any space at the side of my bed, unable to see the hardwood floors and hating to come home because it was such a wreck that I didn't want to deal with.
Then I read something that some Tumblrista had written about Rocky Horror Picture Show, that really got under my skin:
Social Justice Brat/Tumblrista: "rocky horror is the worst and is also transmisogynistic can we please finally get over this shit movie"
Response from a Tumblr User With Common Sense: "ok but like the writer is transgender nonbinary [ed. note: I don't know if this is actually the case for Richard O'Brien, but I'll humor this person...] and the language used in the play was the preferred language by trans people of that time can we not deny parts of our history because we’ve evolved since then thanks"
My response/rant: Oh Tumblr…. Looking to stir up the pot over a stage musical (and later movie) that was written over 40 years ago. And for the record, no I will not get over “this shit movie” as you call it.
I know...kind of stupidly deep and philosophical for ink, but it's really what came to me at the time.
( New ink!! )
Kellie and I were officially divorced at the end of September/ beginning of October. Every once in a great while, I feel sad about it...which I guess is normal when the longest relationship I've been in ended. You can only do so much and I am a human being, as much as I sometimes want to fight against that whole idea (of being human and the whole experiencing messy emotions business).
I discovered a few things: it sounds really stupid, but the divorce was strangely freeing. I'd found myself, as a result of my introversion and social anxieties, letting myself live in Kellie's shadow because she was more extroverted and outgoing. We'd go out and we'd feel privately resentful of the other for being a suck on their reserves (me)/ social life (her) the entire time, so it was hard to have fun. I was used to being known as "Kellie's wife" more than as my own individual being.
Being apart, I've been kind of forced to be my own person. Which for someone with the aforementioned anxieties and introverted personality, is fucking impossible most of the time. Although I've been able to start to do things that I didn't feel comfortable doing before - going to concerts, midnight movies, meeting new people. I've gotten my septum pierced as "fuck you" to being told that it wouldn't look good on me - it actually looks really good, so yeah... I go to Rocky Horror Picture Show every month, and that's my new favorite thing to do - since I go alone, I usually end up chatting with people waiting in line and meet fellow fans, as well as the occasional virgins. I've taken to wearing black eyeliner and red lipstick on occasion, even though it was insinuated that they didn't look right on me. Sometimes I even wear false eyelashes. While bleaching my bangs - before dyeing them bright blue.
Most of my blogging is either updating family and friends on stuff on the Book o' Faces, or my unrepentant (and sometimes idiotic) fangirling over on Tumblr, so I've been so far behind on writing anything here for you all that I don't talk to on either of those places!
Anyways - there have been a few updates since my 40th birthday post from like a hundred years ago. Some good, some not-so-good.
The good: I am working. Albeit temp jobs, but working all the same and have been for the most part since late October.
Still living in the same place, and I really like it. It took some getting used to the neighborhood; because it's further out from things than where I used to live, but I'm enjoying it. Bus service is 24/7, mostly quiet area, and on a clear day I get a decent view of the Golden Gate Bridge from the top of my street.
I've lost some weight - about 60 pounds - and some days I feel great, other days, I feel kind of alien in my own body. It's strange.
I have tattoos now. On my feet. :) I liked it, so I put a bird on it. Or is that I put a bird on it and called it art? No matter, I have awesome birds on my feet that were done this year: the first one in February, and the second one done at the end of April.
The not-so-good: Still divorcing. But it's for the best. It's just absolutely shitty, and I hate having to go through the process. No hard feelings towards Kellie, I just wish that divorcing were as simple as "here...sign this, that and some other thing and you're done" instead of having to fill out all kinds of paperwork delineating financials and whatever else.
My nipple piercings that I had done in July came out in February because they kept getting infected (really sucky); I'm on the fence as to whether I'd get them re-done, because I'm having fun with tats now.
Also, Nitrous for dental work? Not for me. Sure it starts out great, like I feel all blissed out and stoned; but then *bam!* panic attack and I'm ready to start clawing at myself, wanting it to stop because it's freaking me out. Not cool at all. Next time, I'll take some Valium or Xanax.
( Tattoo pics here! )
So I managed to get to 40 pretty well intact - no broken bones or anything. (Yay!)
My birthday was pretty good! I went out the weekend before and did what I'd wanted to do for a long while, something that I'd contemplated doing for my 40th birthday: I got my nipples pierced.
I did it for a couple of reasons: 1) to celebrate a milestone birthday and, 2) to get "okay" with a part of my body that I never particularly liked. Having developed pretty early (and quickly) - in addition to being a fat girl - I always thought my breasts looked weird, since they were kind of saggy compared to my friends'. Also my nipples weren't those cute little perky things you'd see in Playboy or on late night Cinemax films, so that made me feel even more self-conscious.
When I'd gotten to college and saw a few guy friends with pierced nipples, I was intrigued. Then I heard them telling me that it took several months to heal, and that it could be more painful for girls. Knowing that I'd have pretty sensitive tits thanks to PMS, I got scared off by that idea. But it did kind of hang out in the back of my mind.
As I got older and into my 30s, when I started getting into body piercing, I started to consider getting my nipples pierced again. But the fear of the pain is what kept holding me back - not necessarily the piercing itself, I'd endured cartilage piercings so pain wasn't much of an issue. It was again the PMS and sore tits thing.
At least several months before my 40th birthday, I decided that I would get my nipples pierced as a present to myself. As the time got closer, I was vacillating on it, thinking about waiting for the fall or perhaps the year's end to do it. Then, in the week or so prior, I just said "fuck it, I'm doing this." I'd done my research, so I had an idea of what to expect when I was pierced; what bra I should wear, that I should have panty liners in my bra in case there's any bleeding or leakage; get pierced with barbells, not rings; etc. etc.
I went to my favorite shop - Body Manipulations - filled out the paperwork, and waited with several other people who were also getting various parts pierced. One other girl was getting her nipples done as well, so it wasn't like I was the only person! (I'd found out about the other girl because the owner (Paul), who was piercing people that day, came out to discuss bead sizes with me. Apparently the jewelry they were using required a bigger bead, and he wanted to make sure that I'd be okay with that - I told him that since I had pretty big boobs, it wouldn't be an issue for me!)
When it was my turn, I talked to my piercer - Alex - about why I was doing this, he thought it was a cool reason and a good gift. After I was marked and cleaned up, it was piercing time. I used some breathing exercises I'd learned during therapy to help me focus and stay calm. Right nipple pierced, I teared up because there was some pain and also because there was an odd feeling of release. A couple of minutes later, and onto my left one. This time, I just let out this almost primal cry. And afterwards, I was on an endorphin high from it which was totally unexpected and kind of ridiculous.
Lying on the table it took me several minutes to come down, but when I was "with it" enough to sit up straight, I felt like walking out of the shop topless and parading around to show off my decorated nipples! Paul came around and complimented me on the piercings, said that they looked good; Alex said that I did great, handing the piercing itself very well.
For about a half-hour, I felt no pain. But when it hit, hoo boy, it came on hard! I spent the first couple of nights sleeping with ice packs on my chest because I was so sore (turns out that I'd get my period a few days later...oh fun). The pain seemed to go away after a week, but they get sore if I bump them on something or sleep on them weird.
But I really like the piercings. They make my breasts seem "pretty" and I like that because they're not as obvious as I'd thought/feared (I was concerned that it would be perpetual nipple hard-ons - it's not), it's like my little secret under my clothes. That nice girl is pierced up, and wouldn't you like to know where?