Oh man, it’s been a painful couple of days. Because my week 2 challenge (waxing) happened on a Saturday, and my week 3 challenge (a tattoo) happened on a Monday, my body sort of hates me right now.
Long ago, when I first thought about getting a tattoo, I promised myself that I would have to absolutely love something for one whole year before getting it permanently inked into my skin. Over a year ago, I saw a friend’s tattoo of the world map on the tops of her feet and decided I had to have it. (Side note: I just realized this was also Natalie, the girl from the aerial class. I promise I’m not obsessed with her and copying her every move.) Thirteen months later, here we are.
I went into BluGod in downtown Toronto last week for a consult, and met with John Russo, my tattoo artist. He had been recommended to me by a heavily tattooed friend from work, who insisted that Johnny was the best person for what I wanted. I think Johnny had just woken up (my appointment was very early for artsy folk, at 11am), and it was a brief and to-the-point consult. I was pretty sure I was ready.
I went down again today and signed yet another waiver! Although, the girl there said that if a tattoo parlour doesn’t make me sign a waiver, I should probably walk away. Good point.
John and I discussed the placement of the tattoo, what thickness of needle he would be using (to balance detail with staying power), and how big the image should be. After my mis-communication with my waxer, I was not afraid to be vocal with my tattoo artist. He made a stencil of the image and placed it on my feet. I was getting very excited.
“Do you have any other tattoos?”
“No, this is my first”
“And you started with your feet? Why?”
Oh shit. Was this a bad idea? I told John about quitting my job and my challenges challenge and how I had gone for a bikini wax a few days ago, so this couldn’t possibly be as bad as that. John just laughed a little. But he also told me how he used to be in construction and quit that a few years ago to pursue tattooing.
Here’s how I chose to look at it: women get brazilian waxes every few weeks, but I only have to sit through a tattoo once. So really, who’s smarter? Except I had both in a matter of 3 days, so maybe this isn’t the best way of looking at things.
The needle started and I took a deep breath, and it wasn’t that bad. Just like the waxing, there were parts that weren’t so bad, and there were parts that were quite bad. I quite enjoyed the northern countries, but did not care so much for the southern hemisphere. John was nice to talk with; I imagine many tattoo artists double as therapists.
One of the other employees is a very nice person named Kat. She has more piercings and tattoos than I can count (and I can count pretty high). She walked by the room I was in during a particularly painful country, and just stood there and laughed at the expression on my face. I’m glad I amused her.
After less than 30 minutes under the needle, I was done. I got the instructions for touch ups and after care, got a big black bandaid, and was on my merry way. Because of the location of my tattoo (on the top of my feet), I wore flats. This was a mistake. I hadn’t worn these shoes in a while and they ripped up the backs of my feet, making the commute home much more painful than piercing my skin repeatedly with an inky needle.
I am very happy with the results of my tattoo, and I can completely understand why people get addicted to them. I think I get a discount if I go back for a facial piercing, which would be really cool. Just kidding, mom.