“…pretty soon now, you’re gonna get older…”

I just took out my tongue ring. I think it had a good run: December 1995 – March 2007.

I got it pierced for a couple of reasons…I like the way they look; I believe you can never have enough oral fixations; and I was at a point in my life where I was having a lot of trouble speaking in groups, and–because I believed then, and still believe, that body modifications have magical powers–I thought that having a stud through my tongue would make me pay more attention to my speech. Skycat and the Yogini went with me to get it done. Skycat drove. (Thanks, Skycat.)

And because we know I don’t handle change well, and because I’ve really liked it for the past 11 1/2 years, I’ve never really thought about taking it out, until a couple weeks ago…when I realized I was having trouble speaking again, and my tongue seems to keep getting twisted up and words aren’t coming out right, and I thought, you know, maybe it’s just tired of carrying that big-ass stud around all the time. Doesn’t my tongue deserve a break?

And also, as GB reminds me, what with the whole upcoming job search, and trying to be a little more of a “credible” “authority” “figure”, it’s probably a good time to lose it anyway. But for the record, those are GB’s opinions on this, not mine.

So I took it out, about 10 minutes ago. And the weirdest thing right now is that I totally can’t feel my tongue. I mean, I can’t tell that it’s even in there, because it feels so freaking light, and I had no idea how heavy it was before.

So I’m feeling pretty good about it. Another step toward the better-smelling, piercing-free (though still tattooed, and still planning on more of those), dissertation-chapter-revising, almost-Dr. Luckybuzz.