Not At All The New Year’s Post I Wanted To Write

A few weeks ago I got the urge to modify my personal appearance. This happens periodically, usually in tandem with my seasonality. I’ve been through a couple body modifications which I’ve retired for various reasons:

Both earlobes, stretched to 00ga (large enough to thread headphone cable through). Retired due to a recurring hypertrophic scar on my left ear. I miss my big lobes, and often consider another dermatological venture at having the scar removed.

The cartilage of my left ear, dermal punched at a gauge I’ve since forgotten/repressed. Retired the day I had it done due to intensive bleeding, caused dually by poor vein sighting on the part of my piercer and my attempt to remove the jewelry entirely too soon. I got stitched up by a patient young ER doc, one of the more humiliating experiences of my life.

This time around I decided to try two lip piercings (labrets), positioned equidistant below my lower lip, a configuration known as “snakebites”. My piercer did a fine job this past Monday, but they’ve been increasingly uncomfortable. Slightly longer jewelry would likely give the wound more room to heal, but I was duly warned that basically any oral piercing is a recipe for tooth and/or gum damage. As the rightmost piercing began to settle into position I could feel it scraping against my teeth. No good. I took them out a few minutes ago to a mix of physical relief and aesthetic regret.

Body modification is a funny thing, something I have as mixed a relationship to as my body itself. Modification can be a celebration of the body, and I love browsing the galleries at BME and seeing all the shiny, happy, modded people. But it can also be a form of identity escapism, a means to divert attention from what really matters about yourself.

As I mulled over the usual new year’s resolutions, I wondered if my energy was best spent fretting over having the right jewelry in my oozing, self-inflicted wounds or getting more exercise, eating better, meditating, and generally doing things that will actually make me feel better. I suppose it’s not an inherently either/or proposition for most people, but it’s always been one for me.

So here’s to a healthy, albeit lamentably snakebite-free new year. And no, this doesn’t preclude more tattoos. Those always make me feel better.