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My body has a defect. Not my two front IKEA-built teeth nor the starting-from-behind-the-neck butt crack. My whole life is an elaborate ruse. Please let me explain:
About six years ago, I decided to get a labret piercing because I thought they were adorable. I still do…on me. For many years I wore a spike because I’m rebel, see! I was super duper edgy. Then eventually I smartened up and settled on a cute, little stud that only shows itself at the cutest times during the cutest hours of the day. It’s the only piercing I’ve never thought of removing. So I think I’ve established how much I enjoy this thing. Let’s get on with the tale:
I understand the mega-treat it must be to have an opportunity to kiss me in your lifetime (sarcasm). I mean I have a visible upper and lower lip (for the antithesis please Google search ‘Dana Carvey’ or ‘Reba McEntire.’ I also think they’re the same person, but that conspiracy theory is for another day *single blink*). So I went on a date with this guy, he was aight, yadda yadda yadda, the date ended with a kiss. I don’t know why I did, I knew I wasn’t going to see him again but hell, I didn’t hate him. I figured it would be harmless.
I use the term “kiss” very loosely because his excitement got the best of him and he basically Dyson’d my lower lip into his mouth which consequently pulled the piercing from where it lived on my face through the back of my lip. Punctuation was not going to interrupt that description – trust, the run-on sentence was not lost on this gal. I’ve been pierced so I know how a sleek, sterile needle feels puncturing my skin. However, I will never be able to fully explain the pain of the actual PIERCING ripping through the other side of my mouth. Needless to say, I punched him in the centre of his chest (unintentional reaction), stuck my hand in his mouth to retrieve the stud and said I think I should go home as I felt my fingers getting sticky from the blood pouring out of my mouth.
Kissing is probably my favourite thing to do with a boy who’s trying to court me (I read A LOT of romance novels). Simply stated, I’d rather find out sooner than later if you can or can’t kiss me to the standard I’ve set. I don’t have time to waste – you’re in or you’re out, dude. Over the years, there have been some who’ve passed with broad stripes and bright stars, while others have fallen victim to being repeat stud-sucking offenders. (If you haven’t figured it out, the extenda-hole in my lip is the defect because of Dyson). I’ve changed to a larger stud but don’t want to go any bigger because the others are ugly. Due to vanity, I now have to ‘Cirque du Soleil’ my lip IF it ever gets to that point of the date because men these days kiss like they’ve been practicing on a wall since the age of 10.
Future Boyfriend, heed my typed-written warnings and please tek time** and try a little tenderness.
**Tek time – patois for “Take your time” (use it in a sentence today)