It was a viciously hot day this past summer when I spontaneously decided to get my first tattoo. I had been yearning for one ever since I turned sixteen and thought I was some sort of rebel; I had always been known as a "safe kid" growing up, and I subconsciously wanted to prove that I could take risks and be impulsive. However, I waited until I really knew what I wanted before I made the big decision. I saw the perfect quote to ink on my body and immediately got in the car to head to the tattoo parlor. Some may say I rushed into it; but hell, when you know, you know. During the ten minute car ride to the tattoo parlor with my best friend, my palms became ridiculously sweaty, I smoked a grotesque amount of cigarettes, and my bottom lip became ragged and chapped from my consistent biting.
When we walk into the grungy building, I am greeted-- nonenthusiastically, I might add-- by two men with more tattoos and peircings than I even want to think about. As if that wasn't scary enough, the sound of a tattoo needle going to work in some back room almost had me running back to my car. I took a deep breathe, and tried to hide the nervousness in my shaky voice to the guy who would be changing my body forever. Of course, he was completely tatted up, and had numerous peircings in his face, including the one through the nose, which always makes me think of a raging bull. I remember thinking to myself, "It's a good thing you're a tattoo artist because you could never get a job anywhere else." He wasn't especially friendly, but he drew up my tattoo just how I wanted it, and place the stencil print onto my shoulder. The letters of this quote that suddenly meant so much to me were perfectly rounded in their cursive form. It looked phenomenal and intricately beautiful, so I took a leap of faith and fully decided to go with it.
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