Today it finally happened – I got inked!
My older brother has already gotten two in a fairly short amount of time, two larger tattoos on his back, and I’ve been teasing him *cough* fairly mercilessly about how “whiny” he’s been about the pain, especially afterwards. So, he finally got fed up with me and said that if I was willing to get one done, he’d pay for it – just so he could watch me “writhe in pain”.
Probably not his brightest move, as I’ve been outspokenly pro-ink since my tween years and overly competitive since birth. So of course I said yes. And thank you!
The date got set for today, the 17th of July, (which also happens to be my best friend’s birthday), and I haven’t been the least bit nervous, not until this very morning . It wasn’t even about the possible pain per se, it was about it possible hurting so badly that I couldn’t go through with it with a straight face, which would technically mean “victory” for my brother – and I can not even imagine a pain worse than that of my bruised ego.
Fortunately for me – and I never thought I’d use the word ‘fortunately’ when talking about pain – I’ve had lots and lots of prior experiences with pain, so I’ve built up a more than decent, if I may say so myself, tolerance to it, so once the needle starting “humming”, I calmed down and figured “whatever doesn’t kill me…”.
The thing is, I’ve come to the conclusion that pain, much like most other feelings, is just a question of mindset: it’s the body’s way of telling you that you’re in danger and that you should probably do something about it. So, if I tell myself that this is in fact not a situation in which I’m in danger, but rather something I want done, that should make the pain more bearable.
I obviously can’t say for sure that that’s what made this so easy for me to endure, or if it’s just that I have a higher tolerance for pain, but getting my three bat silhouettes (which I’ve named, from largest to smallest, Bruce, Wayne and Alfred) was a breeze.
Actually, the pain caused by the shoes I chose to wear today (the protect my precious ink), is about ten times worse than the inking itself.
Speaking of my best friend and it being her birthday: she’s already got two tattoos, a rose on her wrist and a celtic cross on the left side of her lower abdomen, and she’s got her third almost completely figured out, and she’s definitely got the “ink fever” so when I told her that I was getting my first tattoo, on her birthday no less, she asked if she could come along (of course she could!). When we got there, she starting talking about possibly getting one done, too, today, and asked me if I could ask Bobby, the guy doing my tattoo, if he might have the time to do a quick one on her and I did – and he did.
So two hours later we both left with new ink. She got her beautiful Amstaff’s name and paw prints tattooed just below her collar bone and I got Bruce, Wayne and Alfred.
My brother is actually getting his third tattoo, a full sleeve, later this month, and even though it’ll be at least a 7-hour sit, I’ve decided to keep him company. You know, just to
tease him if he starts to whine be a good sister and keep him company…