*wince* Owwww....
I love my tattoo. I really do. I firmly believe that every last electric impulse of pain is worth it for the shear awesomeness (and beauty) of having this piece of my artwork permenantly a part of my body.
But I will never try to do *anything* the day of and after getting a tattoo ever again. Ever.
1. Taking a good solid shower hurts, even normally. When you're rushed from waking up 45 minutes after you ment to for your flight to Baltimore for a week, it hurts more.
2. You can't wear the usual open-backed shirt on a plane with a tattoo. I don't know what might be on the backs of all the chairs I've sat in today, but I know that if a single viral cell makes it's way into my tattoo while it's still vulnerable this way, Iwill regret it forever.
3. When wearing said closed shirt, the newly washed tattoo, who's scabs and other protective tissues have disinegrated in the excess warm water that you unintentionally doused it with because you were later for your flight, sticks to your shirt. Whenever you shift your shirt in any way, the new scabs embedded in your shirt are ripped off and start afresh.
4. Airplane turbulance bumps you against your tattoo. Over. And over.
5. When you do get to your destination, everybody seems to want to touch your back, even if they've been told many times not to, that it causes you intense physical pain and torture.
I peeled off my shirt just now, with understandable reluctancy, and the inside of the back was both crusty and light blue (the color of the work I got done). I am less than pleased by this. And yet, for all these things, I would still rather repeat the whole experiance, start to finish, over again than even consider not doing it.
I just hope Paul's cats don't step on it if they come by to say hi, and that my cousins won't try to touch it tomarrow when they come.
But I will never try to do *anything* the day of and after getting a tattoo ever again. Ever.
1. Taking a good solid shower hurts, even normally. When you're rushed from waking up 45 minutes after you ment to for your flight to Baltimore for a week, it hurts more.
2. You can't wear the usual open-backed shirt on a plane with a tattoo. I don't know what might be on the backs of all the chairs I've sat in today, but I know that if a single viral cell makes it's way into my tattoo while it's still vulnerable this way, Iwill regret it forever.
3. When wearing said closed shirt, the newly washed tattoo, who's scabs and other protective tissues have disinegrated in the excess warm water that you unintentionally doused it with because you were later for your flight, sticks to your shirt. Whenever you shift your shirt in any way, the new scabs embedded in your shirt are ripped off and start afresh.
4. Airplane turbulance bumps you against your tattoo. Over. And over.
5. When you do get to your destination, everybody seems to want to touch your back, even if they've been told many times not to, that it causes you intense physical pain and torture.
I peeled off my shirt just now, with understandable reluctancy, and the inside of the back was both crusty and light blue (the color of the work I got done). I am less than pleased by this. And yet, for all these things, I would still rather repeat the whole experiance, start to finish, over again than even consider not doing it.
I just hope Paul's cats don't step on it if they come by to say hi, and that my cousins won't try to touch it tomarrow when they come.