So, I live in the East End in the Tower Hamlets burrough and it’s pretty ghetto. I guess it’s comparable to the Mission District in San Francisco—grungy, dirty, white people are the minority, lot’s of hoboes, starving artists, hipsters, immigrants, etc.
Anyways, I lost my nose ring about a month back. I’ve repierced it myself, very painfully, and apparently not very well (it goes into my nose, not through) several times since, in order to avoid having to get it re-pierced.
A fruitless endeavor, as I now have to get it re-pierced anyways.
I had never really spent much time in the East End, other than the street full of pubs my school is located on.
So, this was my first excursion out to Roman Road, which is apparently “The Heart of the East End.” In other words, the middle of the fucking ghetto.
I find the tatto parlour alright. I walk on in and they take me straightaway. She goes and pulls out a box of studs, which I assume from the fact that they are all unpackadged and just floating about that they are for show only. Wrong.
She was gonna pierce me with that stud. No disinfectant was used, nothing. Luckily, I didn’t have to make up some excuse and leave, I have to wait until my old piercing closes up. I promised to come back in a few weeks, to get it done then.
I most certainly will not.
I knew a piercing that normally cost 60 dollars going for 15 pounds was too good to be true.
Man, I’m gonna have to fork over like 50 quid now. God dammit.
Lesson learned, don’t expect quality when something’s dirt cheap.