on being inked

I woke up nervous as hell.

The horror stories about people ‘going under the gun’ were enough to scare me, but the horror stories I heard about my tattoo artist were pushing me over the edge.

I took a cold shower and unconsciously cleaned the upper right portion of my back more than usual. It was never going to be the same.

I walked up to the tattoo studio and some girl put some numbing cream on my back. I left and went to get a good healthy breakfast, think fruit juice, eggs, baked beans, potatoes and sausage. I ate like it was my last meal. The cream was numbing every bone in my body.

My closest girlfriend arrived and tried to calm me down. She laughed and joked and even sang ‘I feel pretty’, but I was a nervous wreck, no, wait, a numb nervous wreck.

As I approached the tattoo studio I got a phone call from them, I informed them that I was on my way, and they informed me that my parents were already there.

And from that moment, I was the calmest tattoo virgin ever.

My mother helped me fill a consent form, my father suggested colours and shading options, my best girl sang softly, someone took pictures and my tattoo artist dissipated all doubts that he was a maniac and made me feel most comfortable.

He talked to my mother who was very concerned with about the man who was going to ‘mutilate her baby girl’. He laughed when she told him she wanted to cut his hair and wash it.

The fact that my parents were there appealed to him on some level.
The fact that my parents were there calmed me down on many levels.

After the first half an hour the numbing cream wore off and I could feel the needle jabbing into me. Weirdly it was awesome.

I felt liberated, I felt a rush, I felt like someone who was doing what they wanted, I felt wild and free, I almost felt empowered.

I felt like an adult.

And throughout, all I focused on was my mothers reassuring smile.