I don't really like change. I agonize over each haircut. I thought I was taking a walk on the wild side when I painted my toenails red. I think you're getting a picture here. And then Husband asked if I'd consider getting my nipples pierced. What? Nipples pierced? No. No. Not ever.
And then I started to think about it. Why not? Was I afraid of the pain? Please. I gave birth without meds. Surely a piercing couldn't compare. I started to do research on the matter and found that some claim a piercing made nipples more sensitive (in a good way), there were lots of options, and many people say that piercings don't hurt as much as they originally thought. Some people claimed that nipple piercing was getting more and more popular among moms looking to spice things up and regain lost nipple sensitivity. On top of that, Husband got that devious, mischievous look in his eye when we discussed it. I love that look. At first I said yes. And then reality hit me. Healing time can be up to a year, sometimes more. Pretty significant risk of infection. Piercing care would be just one more thing for me to do, and I changed my mind. Husband was disappointed, but he made it clear that he wouldn't attempt to force me to do anything with my body.
But the thought was planted. I spent a few days doing research, planning, and thinking. Some days I thought, yes, I'm going to do it. Other times, I decided no, it's not worth it. But what if, what if...
I started leaning towards yes again. My brain tends to jump to worst case scenario and after some thought I realized that many of my fears about it were kind of outlandish. And I would get so much out of the piercings, mostly a private celebration of sexuality. None of my real life (physically present) friends or family would know unless I told them. It's such personal thing, a way to decorate myself, and the fact that Husband finds it hot is just gravy. And, since the healing time is so long, if in a few weeks I decide I didn't like the piercings, I could just take them out and let the holes close.
Then it turned out that Husband had a few days off while the kids were in school. It almost never happens. Since I most certainly wanted him to be with me, it was a now or never situation.
We came to an understanding. Since we both wanted it, we needed to come to an agreement of what a piercing like that meant, as far as responsibility goes.
- I would go to the piercing place and look. Even though our local studio is very highly thought of, if I didn't like what I see or didn't trust the piercer, we walk out.
- For a while, any sexual activity or position that would put pressure on my breasts is off the table.
- Until I'm mostly healed and can handle it, sweaty chores like mowing the lawn (which I had been doing for the most part) are his job. This may sound like I do more than my fair share around the house, but he does dinner almost every night, as he's better at it. Me doing the lawn was a happy trade-off.
- Caring for our veggie garden, which requires a lot of bending over to water and weed, will be his job until I can do so comfortably.
- I get to have new, comfy shelf camis to help me through healing time.
- He will listen to me complain about any and all pain with good humor.
- He will go with me to get pierced.
- Should I get an infection bad enough that requires a doctor visit, he has to go with me.
- If, in a few weeks, I decide I don't like it for any reason, I can take it out, no questions asked.
- Because of my anxiety, there was a good chance that IF I decided yes, it would be spontaneous and it had to be my idea. (Pre-planning increases my anxiety. More time to think = more time to worry.)
- I will be taking a few days off of heavier, in depth housework until I can do so comfortably.
"Riiiiiight," Husband replied, with that look on his face. The devious one. The one where he's about to get what he wants and is barely containing his excitement.
Part 2 still to come.