So here I go again. Even though I know and understand what is hanging in the balance. Even though I realise how defiant this really is, this evading of the rules, deliberate misconstruing of parental guidelines. I didn't get caught yesterday when I circumvented their wishes and got high. Embarrassingly, out of control high, possibly alienating a friend. But I pulled it off without their knowledge. Guilt, yes, but also exhilaration.
This is different. This isn't a one time thing, home safe, several-hour defiance. This will be noticed. This is for a lifetime.
No more piercings, they said. No more needles through your skin. Fair enough, although I plan on pleading for a more lax viewpoint. Fair enough for me to follow their rule, at least for a time. But body mods are addictive. You can't stop once you've had a taste. If I can't stick needles into myself, I'll adjust the mods I've already gotten, I reasoned. Lobe stretching is common. Even though I know how much they hate this, how it will make my mother cry, I am selfish enough to need to express myself this way. I need to change, stretch the boundaries and learn how far I can manipulate myself. How much I can get away with.
My preliminary research severely lacking, I got bad advice from the girl at Rock Universe - the only person I've ever met who actually looks good with snakebites - and headed home with acrylic plugs and taper. Bacteria love acrylic, harbour there gleefully. I'll remember to buy metal or glass next time, although this decision will deplete my wallet horrifically. It's worth it, though, because I am prone to infection. Stretch, stretch, plugs in. Now I will wait, wait, wait.
Finally some relief for my masochistic side; the burning of newly stretched lobes is enough to curtail my need for more extreme measures.
