Saturday, March 16, 2013

Lewd, Crude, and (now) Tattooed

It's done. I'm marked for life.

And it's fucking sweet

Still, having something permanently etched into your skin (especially where you can pretty much always see it) takes some getting used to. Last week, I moved my arm as I was talking to someone, caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye, and was like, "What the hell is...!!....oh."

If you've been keeping up with my snail's pace, you know this process started three weeks ago when I first went to Vivid Ink to see about getting branded. That day was fun what with my husband trying to change up our travel routine while I was already under stress. Anyone who knows what being an OCD-riddled panic sufferer is like knows that's just inviting bodily harm.

I think I married a man who occasionally enjoys living life on the edge.

Anyway, aside from that little hiccup, the rest of that day was fine. I didn't have a panic attack, opting instead to try and be normal for a change. Like it's a choice, right? Truth be told, I haven't had a panic attack in years because I've become quite good at talking myself through my anxiety, but still, having once suffered them on a regular basis sets a person up to be fearful of triggering one in the future. It's like walking around with a live grenade in your pants. So when I met Phil Vosburgh and talking to him immediately soothed my nerves, I knew I'd made a good choice. We set up an appointment for the 9th, I paid my deposit, and we carried ourselves off to dinner.

That was then. Two weeks of obsession and mounting excitement later, and there I was, making the same drive to Holt. Only this time, knowing that I was in fact going to be tattooed that day ramped up my nerves, as did the fact that I hadn't gotten much sleep (less from nervousness, more from my weird ass insomnia).

Anywho, Phil showed me what he'd drawn up....and here's where I'll hand out a piece of advice; trust your damn tattoo artist. If it's someone who does good work and you've seen that for yourself, trust him/her. What Phil drew up was better than what I'd envisioned in my head, and his design adds at least a little individuality to an already popular, sort of overdone design After discussing various options and deciding just what was going to be done, Phil went off to set up while we all all sat around and....well, waited. I didn't sit, though. I couldn't.

When it was time to get started, we all (I had four other people with me. I know, right?) moved back to Phil's cubicle, and he started getting everything prepped, including my arm. Strangely, the closer we got to starting, the less nervous I became. I still reached out for my husband's hand a couple of times because I needed the support at that given moment, but really, I was quite excited. Phil was awesome, showing me all the tools he was going to use as he opened 'em up, just making small talk. Then it came down to the needles. He asked if I was ready, I took a deep breath and said yes, and we were off.

AND OH MY GOD, IT WAS THE MOST PAINFUL THING I'VE EVER GONE THROUGH IN MY LIFE, SERIOUSLY THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE, I WAS SCREAMING AND THERE WAS BLOOD EVERYWHERE.

People who say shit like that about getting a tattoo really need a fucking reality check. I'm not gonna say it wasn't painful, but really, the "most painful thing ever"? Now any time I hear someone say that, all I can think is, 'man, you really haven't been through much, huh?' I've torn the ligaments in my ankle, broken bones in my feet, gone through childbirth....fuck, I've had stubbed toes that were more painful than getting that fucking tattoo.

Pussies.

OK, OK, I'll settle down. I don't mean to insult anyone who maybe had a rough time of it. If anything, I envy you your purity (not really, I'm just trying to be nice after hoein' on ya so hard a minute ago). But hey, the fact that I kinda enjoy a little pain maybe made a difference. I seriously fucking liked it. A lot.

It's a dandelion. And yes, I know, sooo played out and overdone and "oh, my god, if I see one more fucking dandelion tattoo, I'm gonna scream!"...but seriously, I have my reasons for it. Anyone who knows me knows I've never done a fucking thing in my entire life just to go along with the crowd. If I do something, you can bet your sweet ass there's a damn good reason for it. It just so happens there are several reasons I chose a dandelion. Am I going to get into them right now? Maybe just one; the word "dandelion" comes from the English form for the French "lion's tooth". When I originally started thinking about what I wanted as my first tattoo, I considered a lion because I'm a Leo. Alas, I had a really hard time imagining anything that would look right, as most lion tattoos are either too cartoonish for my taste or merely look like they've been plucked out of a velvet painting hung in some dingy crack den. Classy. Plus, I later decided I didn't want anything with a face staring back at me for the rest of my life.

The music notes should be obvious. Music means a hell of a lot to me. It's kept me relatively sane and perhaps saved my life a time or two. The placement of them on this particular tattoo will also, I hope, serve as a daily reminder to me to let music float. I sing. I've been a singer since I was a kid, and even though I often tell myself I suck because my self-esteem is in the pits, I'm really quite good. I don't sing out nearly enough. (And see? I hated even typing that and am now tempted to erase it even though it's the goddamn truth and I need to accept it.)

Without further ado:



So the big question: Will I be going back for more?



8 comments:

  1. Weird thing about me and music is that I don't use it to destroy silence. I don't really want it in the background. When I listen to music, I do it in private, put on sound-proof earphones, crank it up and soak it in.

    The flip side is that when I listen to something vapid or repetitive, it can make an experience physically painful. I can't tune it out. I've been driven out of more than a few stores in Ohio because they cranked the industrial pop-country up to 11.

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    1. I actually do the same. Listening to music through speakers isn't really my thing. I once went a year without any headphones. Worst year of my life.

      I'm also the same when it comes to things that I find vapid or just irritating. For instance, I fucking hate that song Carry On by Fun. and every damn time it comes on the radio, my ears hurt, I start cringing, and I get really angry.

      Industrial pop country has the exact same effect.

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  2. It's an awesome tattoo, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I know what it's like to deal with that level of anxiety, how hard some days can be compared to others, and by the sounds of it, you did a great job :)

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    1. Thanks!

      Anxiety. What can I say? It's shaped who I've become and that may or may not be a good thing;)

      In all seriousness, though, I think people like us have a bit of an advantage over calmer people. We tend to appreciate shit more, knowwhatimsayin'?

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  3. Congratulations, Katrina. It's poetic and beautiful. Hope I grow the ladyballs to get one (a dragon, and not because of the book) some day.

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    1. Thank you, Verminjerky:)

      It doesn't take brass lady balls, just money and some booze. Kidding, kidding, don't drink beforehand, for the love of god.

      I'm getting my second soon. My husband insists on a $300 certificate to my favorite den of ink for my birthday, so now my tribute to my son will finally be done up.

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