The 16th Hole

On June 28th, 2007 (almost six months ago) I got my belly button pierced. This is the story of that day.

I had been in New York for almost a week, shopping and having the time of my life. Before even going there, I had wanted to get a navel piercing done by a professional as opposed to having it done in a random accessories store in Amman. So I researched the procedure and what it involves, and then decided to get it done in NY. I looked for a reputable body art studio in the area where I was living, and found it after sifting through many many names and reading many many reviews.

This was a huge step for me because while it is true that I had 15 piercings (ear, nose), all of these were discovered by my parents. My mother was strongly opposed to my getting a belly ring, but I wanted it so bad that the idea possessed me. When that happens, I know there is no turning back and it must be done.

My mother was set to arrive on June 29th to join me in NY. I stayed up all night on the 27th deciding on the studio to go to, getting their address from google maps, and thinking of a way to convince my brother’s wife to drive me there. If I was going to get my virgin navel pierced, it would have to be on the 28th before my mother comes. Either that or nothing.

The next morning, I talked my hostess into driving me to the studio. I told her that my mother was OK with my getting this piercing and that everyone knew about it (lies, of course). Because she was such a good hostess, she believed me and we headed to the studio at around 11:20 AM.

We got lost for a bit then found it. I was wearing a gray pajama top with an owl on it (didn’t bother to wear a regular top on such a big day), a short beige jacket, and low-rise jeans. My haircut was very new so I looked pretty “femininely boyish,” and my ears were shining with metal and my fingers with black nail polish. The studio, Big Joe & Sons, had an imposing black sign with the letters written in maroon or red and studded somehow. It looked like a real body art studio. I was very nervous.

Big Joe

The weather that day was exceptionally pleasant, I remember thinking how lovely it was on the way to the studio. When we got there and parked the car, I discovered that I would have to go inside on my own. I pretended to be brave and walked towards the dark brown door only to find a note that says the studio opens at 12 PM.

What a bummer! After all that gathering of strength and whatnot I found the studio to be closed. I went back to the car and we spent the next 20 minutes in a Sears nearby. My memories of those 20 minutes are a complete blur. I don’t remember anything that happened during this time, as I was too absorbed in thinking about what sort of pain I will have to endure shortly.

Twenty minutes later, we returned to Big Joe’s. This time it was open and there was no question about it. I walked in and sat down on one of the seats in the waiting area. Three seconds later a heavily tattooed, petite, Gothic girl came out asking me how she can help me. I told her I was in to get a navel piercing.

“Bri-aaan! You have one navel comin’ up!” — she shouted.

She told me to wait a little bit since the artist was busy with other clients. I waited, looking at the flashes covering the walls of the waiting area, watching the girl arrange some in frames, and reading a sign that says “Remember, a cheap tattoo is not a good one. And a good tattoo is not cheap.”

My heart was pounding like an African drum beat. All I could think about was a thickish needle poking a hole in my belly button, and whether or not I will feel it and to what degree it will hurt. I figured that since I have an impressive tolerance of pain then it is not supposed to be a big deal. Then again, that needle is a thick bastard…

Minutes later, the clients who had Brian Demaio engaged came out and it was my turn to go get stabbed. Brian, the artist, came to me and said hello and was very friendly. I expected to be greeted by a human personification of the words “tattoo” and “piercing” but this guy only had his sleeves tattooed and did not have a single piercing that I could see. He asked to see some ID to make sure I am over 18 (I looked exceptionally young with that boy haircut, which was generally good). I gave him my drivers’ license. Then he had me sign a paper which basically stated that the studio has nothing to do with any complications that may occur after the piercing procedure is over.

Brian Demaio

I signed, we talked a little bit about Jordan and I told him I was only visiting NY for the summer. He complimented my English and then proceeded to guide me towards a glass cabinet full of piercing goodies. I was supposed to pick the “ring” or banana bell that was going to break my skin in a few moments. I picked one with red stones.

At this point I realized there was no joking about this. It was happening, and I was finally doing it. Me. For real. We went into a small room which had a giant mirror on the wall next to a dentists’-like chair where I was supposed to sit. I sat down, asked Brian some questions such as if he was going to give me aftercare instructions, if he was using sterile equipment, if he was certified, and things of the sort. Everything was very comforting and his personality really helped calm me down. He said it won’t hurt any more than my other dozen-plus piercings.

So after the belly button sterilization process, it was time to get pierced. I could not see anything because my head was sort of tilted backwards on the chair and the mirror did nothing to help. That was a gigantic bummer to me because I wanted to watch what was going on,and I wanted to videotape it if possible but I had nobody with me. I felt something clasp my belly button for a moment, and then the artist said he will count to three and it will be over. On the count of three, I felt the needle.

I can’t really say how that felt but it was not painful at first. The needle got stuck halfway through.

Brian: Oh, looks like you have thick skin.
Me: Yeah. I was an elephant in another life.
Chuckles.

I don’t really know why I was being funny but that’s how things happened. When the needle continued its journey, I felt like someone was pulling my belly button tightly inwards. That’s exactly how it felt, and I bit my lower lip and sucked it in. Then it was magically over!

I stood up, looked at my beautiful belly ring in the mirror, and thanked Brian a hundred times. I also told him that my mother will probably kill me because of it, at which point he said “It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.”

I paid him and left the studio the happiest body art lover that ever walked this earth.