By Rose Simpson
I’m working on a story about tattoos and piercings and came across a creepy medical journal entry about “the Prince Albert” piercing.
It refers to the practice of piercing the penis through the urethra and out behind the glands. It apparently was a well known practice back in Victorian times, something called a “dressing ring” by Victorian haberdashers. Its function was to secure the penis inside tight-fitting men’s trousers. The consort of Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, was believed to have had this pierce, leading to its current name. Other male genital piercings include the dydoe (lateral pierce of the glans often done in pairs), ampallang (horizontal pierce of the glans above the urethra), apadravya (vertical pierce of the glans, mentioned in the Kama-sutra), Guiche (a perineal pierce between scrotum and anus that originated in the islands of the South Pacific), hafada (scrotal pierce that originated as an Arabian rite of passage), and frenum and foreskin pierces.
Not to be outdone, women have traditionally pierced their clitoral hood and inner and outer labia.
After reading this, I had a question: do these people not love their genitals?
I mean what kind of sick-o, self-loathers would stick glass in their dicks? Or pins in their vaj-ay areas? I’m not sure but I don’t think this was covered in the Vagina Monologues.
According to Janet Jackson, nipple piercings are another matter, something that she finds sexy, something that allows her to explode every which way depending on typical forms of nipple disturbance such as, I don’t know, a brisk cold wind or a swift elbow to the breast.
I just can’t get the whole piercing and tattooing movement for one very good reason. I don’t like pain.
It is for that reason I haven’t had a breast reduction or any other plastic surgery, and the thought of someone sticking a needle in skin, gives me pause. I will tell you one thing: if anyone ever came near me with a piercing gun and tried to puncture my nether regions, they would be missing some teeth.
I have never been one for a bold statement. I have never felt strongly about a rose or a unicorn or man, at least not strong enough to have any of them emblazoned on my breast or rear end. Heck, I don’t even have a personalized licence plate.
I am all for free expression as long as that person does not invade my personal space. I would definitely send a man packing if he dropped his drawers and showed me some metal on his peddle.
“How did you rip your vagina, Ms. Simpson?” is not a question I will be answering anytime soon at the E. R.
So pierce and tatt away my friends, but be sure not to hurt the feelings of your va-jay-jay or anyone else’s.