When I first entered Barnard in 1987, there was not a pierced nose to be seen (unless, of course, I looked down to the end of my own nostril), much less an eyebrow or a lip. Tattoos, though slowly but surely becoming a more acceptable fad, were still head-turners. On campus, mine (when publicly viewable) evoked a fair bit of negative reaction from some, but created a whopping amount of business for my artist from the more daring. In terms of permanent beauty, the times were a'changin. But nose rings, tattoos: this is all window dressing; piercing can play a far more functional role. Those who have dared to explore the wonderful world of fetishism have known this for decades. Genital piercing is taking the under world by storm-it's changed my life forever, most thankfully. A nipple ring here, a scrotum pierce there, or perhaps a "Prince Albert:" a ring through the urinary tract and the head of the penis, all in one fell swoop. I haven't indulged in the first because I strip for a living. I might try out the latter two if, in my next life, I am bestowed with that appendage of the body that depletes the brain of blood during coitus and sticks to the leg in the summer.

I can, however, sing the praises of Chanicqua: the ring I have through the hood of my clitoris. Even I wimped out at the thought of the whole ball of wax, so to speak-imagine if something were to go wrong; why go on living? (I hear, however, that the rare instance of piercing the actual clit brings one close to never leaving the house.) But I wouldn't trade my little friend (hell, my best buddy) for all the double A batteries in the world. As for the few moments of procedural pain, I'd gladly endure them ten times over. According to Mark Seitchik, head piercer at the Gaunlet (NYC), the clitoral hood pierce is one of the fastest to heal. Mine only took a month, despite my refusal to refrain, as suggested, from "rigorous" activity. Of the seven types of female genital piercing, the hood pierce is one of the most functional, as well as aesthetically pleasing. Mine is a horizontal piercing to accomodate a hoop with a ball conveniently located at its lowest point. The whole ring is enclosed by the outer labia, allowing the ball to lie directly against the clitoris. A vertical bar can also achieve the same "climactic" results.

Try it yourself: whether suffering through an anthropology class or a long trip on the subway, you'll never be bored. Just make sure you have a comfortable seat. But beware-Mark tells of one overly satisfied customer who had to remove her jewelry in the name of her morning jogging ritual. It seems the five mile run in the park provided more pleasure than she could afford, interfering with her strict exercise program. What a dilemma. In the way of exercise, riding my bicycle has become a whole new sport for certain. Don't be surprised to see me pedalling away in January (especially bumpy streets are preferable), because it won't be the cold I'm feeling.

So the next time you endure an hour or two of face-in-the-pillow plowing, only to be asked "Was it good for you too?" remember: there is a better way. Whether alone or with a friend, you never have to sacrifice that orgasmic light at the end of the tunnel of love. The key to heightened sensation fits snugly in the seat of your pants (or panties, for those who actually still wear them) and only you and your gynecologist need to know. The old bump and grind will never be the same, a discovery I'm only too glad to have made. To hell with diamonds! Surgical steel is a girl's best friend.