I'm Not Rebellious
by
Shari
My name is Shari. I am 16. I’m in the tenth grade. I go to Transit Tech High School and I love to read, talk on the phone, hang out with my friend, and buy clothes. By the way, I have a tongue ring, but that doesn’t make me rebellious. If you keep reading, you might find my story interesting. Hope I don’t offend anybody
My whole little “wild child” trip started in April. Booster try-outs were starting in South Shore High School. Jackie, my best friend, was trying out. Jackie and I used to see each other everyday after school before try-outs started. So when they did start up, and we didn’t see one another for a while, we made big plans. We planned to cut school so I could go and get my tongue pierced.
The day we planned for two weeks became a reality on April 30, 1999. I had been saving aggressively for two weeks and succeeded in accumulating about $175. Jackie and I met that morning at 7:10 a.m., the time we usually leave for school, in front of Green Acres Farm. We were both dressed to look about 21-years-old. I’m 5’10 ½”, and Jackie just looks grown, period. Anyway, it was a nice day and I wasn’t trying to use my student metro card to go to Manhattan, so Jackie and I walked to the check-cashing place to buy two unlimited metro cards. Then we went to McDonalds and bought hash browns and coffee. Here’s a little piece of advice for those of you who drink coffee -- QUIT. For those of you who never drank coffee -- never start. Anyway, we sipped our coffees so slowly and stirred them so perfectly, you would have thought we had been drinking it all our lives. We had to take our sweet time so we could avoid getting on the bus with any of our friends, because they would ask us where we were going.
So at about 8:30 a.m., we left and took the #46 Bus to Fulton Street. We got on the “A” train, this time getting off at West 4th Street. This was my first time in the Village. We walked around for a while, looking for someplace to have my tongue pierced. When we finally found a place, I started getting scared. Once inside, I told the people what I wanted and paid them my money. They then gave me this little silver stick thing with a ball on either side, and directed me to go downstairs.
When I got downstairs, I started crying. I saw pictures of all kinds of piercing. All I was thinking was “What am I getting myself into?” Jackie took my hand and squeezed it. She asked me if I wanted to go through with it. I had no intentions of not piercing my tongue. That just was not an option. So I showed the man my receipt and my tongue ring. He sterilized it and put on some gloves. I won’t share the gory details, but two minutes later I had a pierced tongue. When I got home, I hid it from my parents by not talking too much. I don’t say too much to anybody in my house. Besides, it was only for three days
Two days after piercing my tongue, I ate my first meal. My mother cooked rice and peas and goat. I ate about three or four spoonfuls of completely mashed up rice with gravy in a little bowl. That was torture. I could barely chew. On May 7th, I ate real food for the first time since I had pierced my tongue. I ate McDonalds and I super-sized it!
Fast-forward to now.
My tongue is completely healed and the pain and suffering I went through for the three days I could not eat, finally paid off. I have had many different tongue rings. I had a silver one with a blue stone in the middle; white dice; blue dice and, a pink glow-in-the-dark ball. Some people look at me with disgust, because when I talk, there is a little silver (sometimes-square) thing on my tongue. Okay. Get over it! For the most part, I don’t want anybody’s opinion or approval. I understand that a lot of people who -- I might add, are full-grown adults – pierce their tongues for sexual reasons. That’s not why I did it, though. My tongue ring is just something else I have. It matches my clothes most of the time. I’m not rebellious. I’m not gothic. I don’t sit with black candles surrounding me, chanting and worshipping the devil. I don’t wear face paint. I don’t wear all black. I don’t wear lace skirts with ripped stockings. I’m just a normal 16-year-old girl from Flatbush – with a tongue ring.
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