#75 Get A Tattoo

Commitment.... it can be a terrifying word or a reassuring word depending on what it pertains to. Personally I like the word. To me it translates into serious, as in I am serious about you or I am serious about us or I am serious about doing this or that. Commitment means follow through. It means actions to back up words. Words are great but actions speak volumes. It means something matters enough to you to engage in a commitment. However, combine the word commitment with tattoo and well...... it made me very uneasy.

When I was younger, I swore I would never, ever get a tattoo. It was all about commitment, and when it came to tattoos, I was a commitment-phobe. I loved tattoos....on other people. However for me personally, I did not want to commit to anything being permanently engraved on my body. What if I changed my mind? I do that sometimes. Also...What if I went to an artist that totally fucked up my tattoo? I would be stuck with an ugly tattoo that I no longer wanted for the rest of my life. No thanks. Finally, the biggest reason why I would never get a tattoo was simple. Needles sometimes make me faint. I was afraid they would hurt really bad too.

If there is one thing I have learned in this life it is to never say never.........

In April 2007, I became a different person. My ex-husband and I had separated a year prior at the beginning of April in 2006. Our wedding anniversary was April 26th. The first year I dealt with it poorly since I was still so fresh from the split. The date was fast approaching again, and while I was good with everything, I still wanted to have a different memory for that day. My co worker Carolyn was talking about getting another tattoo on her shoulder. She had several (9) cute little tattoos all of which were very nicely done

A light bulb went off in my head. That's it!! On April 26th, 2007 I was going to get a tattoo. That is definitely something I will remember. A very dramatic decision for me indeed but I tend to dive head first when the light bulb goes off and it has rarely done me wrong. This was huge!! I realized I could do whatever I wanted to now. I could spend my money on me. How exciting!! As for my anxiety over the pain...screw it. I spent 24 hours in labor without meds and had a complicated birth with my daughter. I can handle pain. A little tattoo needle ain't got nothing on that. I could do this. I tell Carolyn she inspired me to get my own tattoo. We decide to go together so I won't have to be alone my first time!

I actually had an idea of what I wanted to have done. I wanted to get a tribal butterfly around my belly button. I didn't care if tribal tattoos were overdone, unoriginal or cliche like some critics say, I loved them. I found them to be sexy. Very, very sexy! As for my choosing a butterfly, well, butterflies are free to fly!! I was about to spread my wings. It was a long time coming. I had been released from a fifteen year cocoon of mixed emotion. It was time for some much needed personal growth. Chrissy was about to begin her journey. Symbolism people!

I spend the next two weeks scouring the internet for the perfect tribal butterfly. Finally, after much searching, I found the perfect one! I print it up and save it for my consultation. The following week, Carolyn and I arrive for our meeting with the artist. He frowns when he looks at my picture. I stare at him, confused and a little disheartened, waiting for some sort of explanation as to why he is looking at my butterfly like he is. He looks up expressionless and proceeds to question the size of the tattoo I have chosen for my first tattoo. He asks me if I am I sure I want to go that big first time? I inform him it took two weeks of research to commit to the print out he was holding in his hand. I was not changing my mind about the tattoo I wanted.

He then questioned whether my stomach would be the best place to get my first tattoo. In fact he highly recommends since it is my first tattoo NOT to get it done on my stomach. It is a very sensitive area he explains. Being that I am not willing to go smaller, the pain may be greater for me since I have no idea what the needles feel like to begin with. Add the sensitivity of the skin around my belly button and he is concerned I may ask him to stop. He does not want to start something I may not want him to finish.

I mull over the information he just provided to me for a few minutes. I really wanted to try and conceal some of the scars on my stomach. This is fucking up all of my plans. I am now anxious. I just may chicken out after all. I really don't want to. I really want this. I really need this. The only thing standing in the way is my insecurity. If a man judges me based on the scars on my body, in the long run do I really want to be with a man like that? No, I don't. I am not a Barbie. I like to get down and dirty. We can't all be glamour pusses can we? I'll leave that to the pros. It's both perplexing and quite sad how much we allow the media and the shallow people of the world control our self esteem. Fuck em!

I decide to get the tattoo on the ..........wait for it..........wait for it...............the small of my back. Yes, I am getting a tramp stamp people. I ain't no tramp though. Besides, I think they are very sexy too. The tattoo artist finally complies to my request although he does mention one more time concern about how big the tattoo is and my tolerance for pain. I tell him we will cross that bridge if need be and I'll just have to suck it up. It's all set now! I am really going to do this I think. I feel rebellious! LOL!

Before I leave, I ask him one other question. Can I have a drink before the tattoo to calm my nerves? His answer....NO! It thins the blood. Damn! In the back of my mind I debate still doing it but the day of I decide not to. He would know. Maybe the fact that I am so nervous will numb me from the pain. (I can convince myself of just about anything I swear.)  I meet Carolyn a week later at the tattoo parlor. I am stoked. This is really going down! She says she will go first so I can see what it is all about. As I look on, she is so calm. She doesn't flinch once. I feel better already.

My turn. I assumed I was going to lie down for the tattoo. Wrong. I have to bend over the the chair. Awkward but it's all good. He tells me he is going to remove two bars from the tattoo print I brought because they didn't make sense to him. He knows what he is doing right? I comply. I wish I wouldn't have now. The two bars he was talking about are what made the butterfly look like a butterfly. I guess to men, butterflies don't make sense? (I get it turned into a complete butterfly a few years later. It's not as balanced as I would like it to be but Joe did an amazing job fixing it. I plan to add to it soon. It is my work in progress. Just need more money. Who doesn't.)

What I really wanted. 

Anyways, back to the bending over of the chair. "You had me at bend over." LOL! Nah, not this guy. He turns on the needle and warns me not to flinch. As soon as the needle hits my skin....I flinch. I wonder if he noticed? Yep, his reiterating not to flinch verifies he noticed. I take a deep breath. I don't want to mess this up. He starts doing the outline. It burns and stings a little but it isn't too bad. After 15 minutes I do not even notice. This isn't so bad I tell myself. Not bad at all. After 45 minutes he asks me if I would like a break before he starts the shading. At first I say no, but he recommends I take a break. Hey, he's the professional.

So....I go outside with my pants half down, paper towels hanging out of  my waistband, my jacket around my waist to cover my ass and have a cigarette. I felt really sexy let me tell you. (Sarcasm!) After my smoke, I go back inside and assume the position once again. It's shady time. For some reason I believed the outlining would be the most painful part of the tattoo. Wrong again. The shading hurt like a mutherfucker. I felt like I was getting a really painful brush burn over and over again in the same spot. It hurt even more as he progressed.

I didn't go numb like I thought I would. I keep taking deep breaths which make me wiggle and flinch. This causes more scolding. I look at the clock. It's been 45 minutes. I can do this right? Just when I think I cannot take the pain anymore he tells me I am done. Thank the good lord in heaven above because any longer and I may have just passed out from the pain or broke my face from clenching my jaw so much. I was feeling dizzy and a little nauseous. A headache was on the horizon.

The tattoo artist asks me if I am ready to see my new art. I smile! Yes!! I am! He holds up a mirror so I can see my new tattoo. I really like it but I notice it doesn't look like a butterfly. If I wasn't so tuned up to the pain I would have made him put the bars in but at this point I had enough and figure I will get it adjusted another time. I still really like it though. It's very cool. He gives Carolyn and myself our tattoo instructions and sends us on our way. I am not to take anything for the pain right now because it can cause bleeding. I remember I have class tonite so I wonder how this is going to play out.

My first tattoo! 

By the time I get home, the sensitivity has already started to wear off. I will be okay I reassure myself. I go to class that night. As my Human Resource Management professor is lecturing the class about the process of doing a job analysis to create accurate job descriptions, I sit back in my chair and irritate my back. Shit! Did I just ruin my tattoo? I jump up from my seat and head to the restroom. I have it all to myself thank god because I literally stood in front of the mirror, dropped my jeans and removed the gauze from my tattoo. It was bleeding a little but otherwise, it looked fine.

I realized at any moment someone could come walking in to the bathroom. Imagine their expression walking in to see a woman with her pants down to her ankles in a half twisted position, standing on her tippy toes with her naked ass sticking out so she could get a good look at it in the mirror. That would definitely make for some interesting conversation. I hobble into a stall, pants still at my ankles to put the gauze back on my tattoo. Don't feel like being the butt of a funny story, literally. I do that inadvertently enough as it is.

The next two days go well for me. Then the itch comes. No one warned me about that. The artist did say it was going to peel or shed and that I was to leave it alone but he did not explain that the itch would be the equivalent of Chinese water torture. HOLY FUCKING ITCH! I must have rubbed three tubes of ointment on it just to rub the itch. I felt like a crack addict looking for his next fix. I may have rubbed my back off the door frame of my bedroom like a bear would do to a tree to relieve the itch more than a few times. My son caught me doing that and just gave me a look like "What the hell is my mother doing now?" Nothing could satiate the itch but time. And it felt like forever.

Finally after all the shedding and itching I show my father my artwork. He knew I got one but we were not to tell my grandfather. He is way old school. I was the first born grandchild so it would be frowned upon way more for me than it was with my two youngest cousins. And anyone that knows my grandfather knows he was not afraid to voice his opinion, politically correct or not. My two youngest cousins had gotten tattoos and he had many comments to make about them. I was his little golden girl, the first born of his first born.
My grandfather could be so modern yet so old fashioned. When he found out I was pregnant with my daughter first thing out of his mouth was "You're not going to marry THAT guy?" LOL! Four years later he was on me to marry him because we were Catholic. Go figure.

My father's reaction however, was too cute. He looked at it and says astonishingly, "Is that real?" I'm like yea dad, it's real. He thinks it is really nice. He keeps saying he can't believe it is real and that it is so nice. My brother even likes it which is surprising since I am the "uncool dorky" sibling. Of course he throws the old "tramp stamp" phrase into his admiration. Wouldn't be my brother if there wasn't a twinge of sarcasm laced in there somewhere. In my family, we are all graduates of Smart Ass University.

Several years later in April of 2012 I get my second tattoo and also have my original tattoo reworked into a butterfly. I would like to add more to my "tramp stamp", perhaps a tribal vine coming from both sides of the tattoo with little dragonflies. Maybe another quote too. I would also like to get a wrist tattoo and maybe something on my foot. I love cherry blossoms but am a commitment phobe about color. LOL! I am still torn about adding more to the quote I got across my shoulders. I don't want to take away from it. I guess when the time comes I'll seek out advice. In the meantime I will keep searching for inspiration.

The rework. It is more like a butterfly with a phoenix rising from the ashes feel now. 

Never Say Never.............

Fess

As Stevie Nicks sang ," Blame it on my wild heart." Sometimes it gets me into trouble. LOL!