You’re Kidding, Right?

Once upon a time, I got a tattoo. I have always wanted one, so it wasn’t a surprise when I turned 18, and I went and got one. I researched for hours and hours before I even started to decide on what I wanted on my body for the rest of my life. I knew with a decision like this, I was going to be able to ask all the questions I wanted without feeling any guilt. After figuring out my budget, and what I wanted, I searched for someone who was good enough to put ink on my skin, that was going to be there until the day I die, and then some.

But I’m not about to tell you everything about the tedious process of getting a tattoo, and basically, I did not take enough time to think it through and really think about what I wanted. But I feel that’s because what I wanted was right in front of me all along, and so actually coming down to it and deciding, I feel was easier and quicker for me, rather than for some others that I know. I don’t regret my decision on what I got tattooed, but I really could have thought about it for a longer period of time.

Now let me say something about questions when it comes to tattoos. No question is stupid. Not when you are concerned about something that is about to be on your body, and possibly visible to others for the rest of your life. Now, let me also say this. I asked a stupid question. Now I know I’m contradicting myself here, but when you’re sitting in the chair, after freaking out for the past hour and a half while my tattooist had been drawing the outline and design, you’re not really supposed to ask a question as stupid as; “you know what you’re doing… right?!” Yup. I couldn’t be more serious than that. He had the needle millimeters from my skin with the ink in the cartridge, and I had the guts to glance over at him with a widened side eye, and ask him if he knows what he’s doing. Uh, yeah. Only been doing this for thirteen years, sweetheart. He might as well have just said, no sh*t, now shut up. At least, that’s what I was half expecting as soon as the words escaped my lips. I decided from that point on, I was just going to stay quiet, since obviously I was not able to be smart about this whole thing.

But, had I not asked the question, I most likely would not have felt stupid the entire time he was drawing up the outline in needle and ink on my arm. I would have been a little more calm, and would not have been as embarrassed as I was. But about halfway through, he seemed really into the tattoo, and he did not really look bothered by anything, so I just kind of laid back against the chair and began to relax as he started working his way up and down the rose on the bottom half of my tattoo. We took about a 20 minute break after the rose was colored in and finished shading, and we started talking about the rest of the tattoo, and everything seemed fine when we were discussing the coloring that I wanted for the raven on my shoulder. We were discussing the coloring and what else I wanted as I ate. I was tired, and extremely hungry since I had woken up at close to 7:30, and I had been at the tattoo parlor since around 10 in the morning. I had gotten there so early because I knew it was going to take quite some time to plan out how the tattoo was going to be positioned, and it was also going to take a big chunk of time for him to actually draw it out, and get everything set up and ready in front of me. Only to assure me that everything was new and clean, and that there was absolutely no possibility of any contamination whatsoever.

But after eating, I washed my hands, and he did as well, and back to the chair I was. I glanced over at him as soon as he sat down after me, and I had given him the exact same look as I did before, with so much doubt in my mind that it was radiating off of me as I met his glance. His side smirk and one nod gave me hope that he would not mess up on something so important to me.

In conclusion, I trust him with all of the ink in my skin, and recently, I had gone back to him with a friend for a birthday, and we both got matching tattoos. I had two tattoos from him, and so does my friend. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my body like I do him when it comes to ink, and I’ll be going back to get more this coming summer. But what I’ve learned is that no question is really stupid, unless you’re debating on asking the same exact question you did already. I still had doubt halfway through, and it was before he smirked that I was going to ask him, yet again, if he knew what he was doing. All in all, I’m just glad I didn’t ask again.