As a kid and all through my teenage years, my mother constantly told me that all tattoos and all piercings (with the exception of the ear lobe, provided it was a single piercing in each ear) are awful, evil and make the wearer look "common" (a word she particularly likes to use to describe anyone of lower middle class or working class). Therefore I, nice, polite, well brought up young lady, with my quiet, shy personality should never ever ever get any of that kind of thing in a million years.

Problem is, I always really liked tattoos and piercings. I think they look sexy. Naturally, I have never admitted this to anyone.

Two weeks before my eighteenth birthday, I decided I was going to get a piercing. Not a tattoo - if I decided I didn't like the piercing later in life I could just remove it and it would heal, with no mark other than maybe a small scar, but tattoos are forever. I wanted something discreet so I could hide it from my mother easily, so anything on my face was out. As I only had my ear lobes pierced, I wasn't quite ready to do something extremely crazy like a genital piercing, and navel piercings never really caught my interest.

So I decided I would get my nipples pierced. The tattoo parlour I chose in the next town across had an age limit of 18+ for nipple piercings, but that wouldn't be a problem since I wouldn't have to wait long. I planned it all meticulously, right down to what I would be wearing and what time I would arrive at the tattoo parlour. But I needed an alibi - I would tell my mother I was going shopping with an equally quiet, well-behaved and nice young lady, when really I would be going to do something she despised.

I arrived in the town and made my way to the tattoo parlour. I walked through the doors, approached the desk, and told the woman behind it what I wanted done. She pulled out a form, which I filled in. I selected the plain silver titanium bars. I had already decided I wanted both nipples done. She lead me into a back room, where I took off my shirt and my bra. We chatted while she was preparing the needles which I carefully didn't look at and drew little dots on my nipples where she would pierce. I laid down on the bed, braced myself for the pain, and she did it. It hurt, but I didn't bleed. Then she did the second one, the same pain, and still no blood. She put bandages over them.I put my bra and shirt back on, we walked back out to the front of the parlour, and I paid the fifty pounds for the piercings.

I walked away with the biggest grin on my face.

I went to my favourite restaurant and ordered a glass of wine. I could feel them hurting, but it was a blissfully welcome reminder that I had done it. I had two permanent badges of defiance against my mother.