Give pierce a chance
Objects pushed through a hole in your body? Barry Lowe gave it a try – several times.
At the moment my forehead looks like pepperoni pizza. No, I didn’t get drunk and forget I was a vegetarian only to fall face down in a meat lover’s pizza, but I did do this hideous thing to myself.
Diagnosed with keratoses on my face, the dermatologist put me on three weeks of a cream that required my wearing gloves as I spread it sparingly across my forehead. “Stop the treatment if it becomes too painful,” the dermatologist said. “Keep out of direct sunlight, and it may take three months to heal.” Painful? Three months?
Turns out the cream, a mildly stinging acid that ate away at my skin, gave me the appearance of islands of purple on my forehead and down the sides of my eyes where the unguent was spread by my pillow while I slept. I lasted the entire three weeks while the look became progressively worse and people registered horror on their faces if they saw me in the street.
Eventually, my skin pitted where the treatment attacked the keratoses until they began to itch and my face became scaly with flaps of dried skin. I’d moved into zombie territory. Now all I have to do is await my specialist’s directions to see if it’s worked.
[Image] Barry Lowe may have set off metal detectors with his previous body modifications.
It reminded me of all the things I’d done to my body over the years. Nothing too stupid like having a tattoo of a heart and the name ‘Heather’ inscribed on my body. She was the girl our two families expected me to marry.
My body modifications have been very mild. I’ve never been tempted to have one of those ear lobe holes that would enable me to not only suck cock but be double ear fucked at the same time. Even less to have my cheeks opened up so that people can see my teeth. Must make it difficult to know where to put your hand when you sneeze, although the idea of having three cocks in my mouth simultaneously does have a certain appeal.
The worst I did was perm my hair so that I looked like an unattractive Harpo Marx, and later bleached the buggery out of it in a futile attempt to look like Billy Idol. I looked more like Billy’s bimbo sister if he’d had one.
I did jump on the ear ring bandwagon, one on each ear to suggest I was versatile rather than bisexual. Then more crept up my ears until they looked like a metal ladder for cockroaches to climb. My nipples were next. Both of them. I have OCD and, like Poirot, I like symmetry. Finally, my eyebrows. Again, both.
I was tempted to have my perineum pierced but never my cock. I really didn’t want to piss in three direction while standing at a urinal. Alas, one by one, they had to be removed for various medical treatments. The last to go were the eyebrow rings which I didn’t bother to replace after I was rushed to a major hospital with stomach cramps and the triage nurse took one look at my piercings, dismissing me as a drug addict leaving me in casualty until last. Turns out I had a serious bowel obstruction. No, it wasn’t a gerbil.
I’m now very plain and unadorned – apart from pizza forehead – and the last vestige of my minor fashionable body modification disappeared when I renewed my passport, my mug shot no longer showing any trace of eyebrow or ear rings. I feel so naked.