(no subject)
So usually, I actually find the sensation of getting tattoos kind of pleasant. It hurts, but it sort of hurts in a nice way. Like massage or having someone gently pull your hair (my hairstylist always sort of gathers my hair, close to the scalp, and pulls it, and it feels LOVELY).
Today I went to get touch-up work done on the tattoo between my shoulder blades (it's a 2" x 2" Auspice Maria, in black). I got there, stripped down to my cami to show the artist the spots that needed to be darkened. And then she was all, Oh! Right after I did this, I switched to a different black that doesn't fade out as much as this one did! I'm just going to fix this up a bit!
"Fix this up a bit" turned out to mean "redo the entire tattoo." And it HURT. I don't know what was different this time, but it was really pretty incredibly awful - 45 minutes of staring at the wood grain in the floor, trying not to move but also trying to remember to breathe, until I was weirdly sort of out-of-body and this felt like something that was happening to someone else.
I went to Target afterwards and saw myself in the dressing-room mirror and I looked sort of pale and shocked and out of it. I thought the other Target shoppers were admiring my blue-green skinny jeans (yes, they're kind of weird and overly fashion-y), but in fact, I think they were worried that I was going to pass out or throw up amongst the $19.99 maxi dresses.
Today I went to get touch-up work done on the tattoo between my shoulder blades (it's a 2" x 2" Auspice Maria, in black). I got there, stripped down to my cami to show the artist the spots that needed to be darkened. And then she was all, Oh! Right after I did this, I switched to a different black that doesn't fade out as much as this one did! I'm just going to fix this up a bit!
"Fix this up a bit" turned out to mean "redo the entire tattoo." And it HURT. I don't know what was different this time, but it was really pretty incredibly awful - 45 minutes of staring at the wood grain in the floor, trying not to move but also trying to remember to breathe, until I was weirdly sort of out-of-body and this felt like something that was happening to someone else.
I went to Target afterwards and saw myself in the dressing-room mirror and I looked sort of pale and shocked and out of it. I thought the other Target shoppers were admiring my blue-green skinny jeans (yes, they're kind of weird and overly fashion-y), but in fact, I think they were worried that I was going to pass out or throw up amongst the $19.99 maxi dresses.