I Speak With Two Tongues: My Tongue Split Procedure

I guess I should start with how this all started, but I won’t get too crazy with the details here. There are a few things that I have always loved, one being animals and the other, body modifications. As a young child, I remember seeing family members adorned with a tattoo here and there or a nontraditional ear piercing. When I was 14, I got my first body piercing. It was a 14 gauge tongue piercing, which I later stretched to an 8 gauge. Shortly after, I began seeing pictures of Erik Sprague, better known as The Lizardman. For those of you who don’t know of him, he has his tongue bifurcated, as well as other extensive modifications and I was completely intrigued by his tongue. Not in a sexual way, but I just thought it was beautiful. I know it sounds a little strange, referring to a tongue as beautiful, but nonetheless, that’s how I see it. Given the history of my love for “forked tongue” creatures and now knowing that a human could achieve that, well at least the look anyway, I knew I would do it eventually, if ever presented with the opportunity.
In 2004, I was lucky enough to get a piercing apprenticeship, free. Nowadays, it is so rare to get anything free, let alone a form of education. I took every opportunity I could to learn everything and anything that my mentor, Dennis, was willing to teach me. Not only did I learn a lot about anatomy, sterilization, how to manage a tattoo shop, and health risks, but this apprenticeship also led me to meet many amazing people in the body modification industry, like @evoman1. It opened my eyes to a lot of things, the most important (especially for this experience) being that almost anything is possible, and it allowed me to figure out just who was worthy enough to do my work. Slowly, I started seeing other people in the local area with their tongues “split” and realized that this was definitely going to happen for me as well.
Fast forward to 2008. I’ve been in the body modification industry four years, and I know so much more than I ever did about different procedures, etc. My fiancé, Craig, began tattooing at a shop with a guy named Brian, (who would later become one of our best friends) and since I had left the industry at this point and went back to working my regular office job, I would always go down to the shop to hang out. I missed piercing, but was lucky enough to be welcome at the shop by the boys, so at least I could still be around it. As the three of us started to become friends, we realized how similar we were as far as what level of modification we were interested in. Truthfully, I think that rarely happens with anything, so this was a major plus.
In 2009, Brian had gotten some silicone domes implanted in his arm. This really made the light bulb go off for Craig and me. As Brian put it, “The modification you want is just a phone call away.” With that, I started looking into the tongue bifurcation procedure. I was obsessed at this point, and after a lot of searching, finally, I felt comfortable with who I chose to do the surgery. (The artist has asked me to keep his name out of anything public regarding my procedure, as it is illegal in most areas). I made my appointment, which was a few months away, and I was psyched. During the waiting time, I was advised to stretch my tongue to a 2 gauge barbell, so that it would be healed by my appointment date and make a great anchor for the split. Sometimes the tongue has a chance of having some regrowth at the back of the split, so this would help prevent it. Later that day, I stretched to a 6 gauge, which made me absolutely miserable. This got me thinking, and my brain totally took a different turn.
I swear I was bi-polar during the waiting time and I kept my upcoming procedure rather quiet. Craig and Brian knew about it because they were taking me, and I told my boss, because I took my vacation time so that I could heal up before going back to work. I began doing more research, but this time, instead of looking into the procedure, I started reading experiences on BME. Bad, fucking idea. I would get a sick feeling in my stomach every time someone brought it up. I think the reality of what was I was doing hit me. I won’t lie, I had second thoughts a thousand times. All that kept going through my head was, “I’m not cutting skin. I am getting a muscle cut. In half. What the fuck am I doing?” This was the first time in my life that I can honestly say that I was scared. “What if something goes wrong and I can never talk or sing again?” I then turned to Craig and said “Well what if I get it done and then you decide you don’t like kissing me anymore?” to which he replied, “Well then I just won’t kiss you,” and started laughing. He tried to make a joke to take the tension away, but that just put a new fear inside me. Our intimate life was going to change. We later had a serious talk about it and he reassured me that this was not going to affect our relationship. For the better or worse. I started to feel a little bit better, so I would go on www.youtube.com to watch the videos of people all healed up, playing with their tongues and doing tricks. Mine is now at a 4 gauge, and stretching it hurt so bad this time that I decided to stay at this size. It will have to be good enough, because the pain was so immense. Wait a minute. How am I going to handle the split, when stretching hurt so bad? My mind would start racing again, but then I would remember all the times I showed people pictures of Lizardman and then would say, “That’s one of my body modification goals.” At this moment, I realized it was exactly that. A goal. I had to rationalize with myself. “You set this goal. You didn’t think it was possible at first. Is that why you said you wanted it? Because you didn’t think it could happen? Or, is it something you wanted to experience? Because it’s here, now. Your goal. Something you’ve wanted. Just do it. Push the bar.”
I swear the whole experience before the actual procedure was a complete mindfuck. I mean a piercing, a tattoo, hell, even an implant can be removed. This is pretty permanent and although I could technically put it back together if I didn’t want it anymore, it would leave my tongue pretty disfigured, as it is a harder procedure and could affect my speech worse than the initial split.
As you can tell, I was pretty up in the air in my head the whole time. On the outside, I just couldn’t help being excited. During the last week before our appointment, the three of us were so excited for our modifications, the term “IS IT SUNDAY YET?” became our anthem. Every five minutes you heard, “Hey Bri, is it Sunday yet?” or “Hey Alys, is it Sunday yet?” Out of control, I tell ya! You would have to have been there to understand. I don’t know about the boys, but I barely slept the night before. Sunday finally came and the three of us met up for breakfast, better known as the “last breakfast.” I mean really, who knew when I was going to be able to eat again. We paid the check, hopped in my jeep and got moving.
We arrived about an hour early and just kind of took in the atmosphere around us. When our artist came in, a few things with Craig’s implants had to be ironed out before his procedure took place. When it finally registered in my head that Sunday was finally here, I decided that I had to go last, because I knew Craig’s procedure was going to be the longest and honestly, when I’m in pain or I don’t feel well, I just want to be at home. His procedure was started and I’m pretty sure at this point all of our adrenaline was pumping, and pumping, hard. I don’t know why I bothered to ask, because I really did know better, but without thinking, the question “Is he going to swell?” came out of my mouth. I wanted to eat those words, but everyone started laughing including me and I no longer had any of the fear or weird thoughts going through my head. It was on and I was more than ready.
A few hours later, Craig’s procedure was finished and Brian was next on the chopping block. (Or maybe we should say, cutting board?) His procedure went a lot faster than I expected and by this time, I knew I had to eat again, because modification work plus an empty stomach does not do my body good. While Brian was bandaged, Craig and I ran over to the closest pizza joint and I grabbed a slice, which totally disappointed me because I like pizza, but I don’t love it. I really did not want pizza to be my “last supper.” Anyway, we went back with a full belly and I hopped in the chair. We talked about how far back we were going to cut and I decided that I didn’t like where my tongue was pierced and wanted the split to go back farther. He said, “You’re the boss, I’ll just add another suture at the back of the split to help ward off regrowth.” I did warn my artist about the possibility of me throwing up. I hate the taste of blood. It turns my stomach in an instant. If I get a bloody nose, as soon as it hits the back of my throat, I’m yacking. He assured me that I was not going to swallow it and that when my mouth filled up to where it was too much, I was to raise my hand and he would stop so I could spit it out. YAY! He then carefully removed my barbell, marked my tongue, grabbed it with forceps on either side, took the scalpel and cut away. The blade of the scalpel was so sharp that I barely felt anything. I felt more heat from the lights above me than I did pain. He shoved some gauze in between my new tongues and I pulled my tongue back into my mouth for a few minutes to absorb some of the blood while he got ready to suture. Wow, that was easy! Or, so I thought.
The next half hour was one of the longest, most painful, annoying 30 minutes of my life. I felt every prick of the suture needle and every stitch being pulled through my tongues. My jaw was killing me from holding my mouth open so long. My tongue was throbbing and being pulled around like a ragdoll. I was so uncomfortable, but I stuck it out. I could have cauterized it instead, but to me, that gives the inside a very flat look, where as suturing keeps it rounded, more natural looking. (Not that having a split tongue looks natural, but you know what I mean, I hope.) I kept thinking about my goal and the result that I wanted to achieve. After what felt like forever, I made it through and it was over. When he was done, my mouth was very dry and when I took a sip of water, my new adventure had begun. I could not figure out how to swallow it with two swollen tongues, so I drooled all over myself! By this time, we were all starting to get sore so we were ready to go. We hopped back in my Jeep and headed for home.
While stopped at a light, I saw a man walking with an ice cream cone. I swear, if I wasn’t drooling so badly (and into a cup might I add), I probably would have mugged him for it. Believe me, I thought about it, repeatedly. When we got back, we dropped Brian off at his car and a friend of mine took Craig and me out for ice cream to celebrate our “surgeries.” While it was a sweet attempt, I quickly realized that if I did mug that poor man to steal his ice cream, it would have been for nothing. I tried, ever so carefully to put the first bite in my mouth and succeeded. Holy BAD IDEA, Batman! It hurt so incredibly bad, I cannot even explain it. It had been a really long day, so we didn’t stay long. When we got home, I carefully swallowed some Ibuprofen and went to bed.
About 2 hours later, I woke up at 3 a.m. crying hysterically. Unbelievably, it was not from my tongue hurting, but because of my jaw and ears! I felt as if I had double ear infections and lock jaw. It hurt so bad from having to keep my mouth open for that long. It was horrible, but I knew it just had to get better, and it did.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for reading. Since I have babbled long enough, I won’t get into the rest of the specifics, but I will tell you that for the first 4 days, I ate nothing but baby food and Farina and drank only warm coffee and Muscle Milk. I took Ibuprofen every few hours for the pain and swelling (I think I went throw a 180 count bottle in one week) and barely talked much. I spent my recovery at the tattoo shop with Brian and Craig, as we all went through it together and they were recovering too. Brian was nice enough to take my sutures out for me that next Sunday. Seventeen total. Things just got easier from there. In fact, I would totally do it again and I have actually considered it, so that we can cut it back a little further. Anyway, it was a great experience from beginning to end and really taught me a lot about myself, my limitations, my friends, and that some things really are mind over matter. That being said, if you have the stomach for it, I've posted the video below: