I’ve been wanting a tattoo for quite some time now. Its been put off for multiple reasons; the first and biggest issue is that I have an ever changing brain and a design I work up soon becomes something that I don’t want at all. This is a big part of my life, I rearrange my bedroom furniture on the regs, I cant use the same shampoo or eat the same cereal twice in a row, etc. I crave change in my life and a tattoo is not the place for something that I might not like in the future. That’s why its taken me at least 6 months of staring at a design at my desk, on my fridge, and on my phone before I committed to it. But not only my indecision, but also the fact that if I drew up this design and someone fucked it up permanently on my body i’d probably kill them. Artist choice was very important, as it should be. My sister, Sur Rah, has multiple tattoos all done by the same guy. He is amazing, like booked out for months amazing. So naturally, when she tells me that he is doing walk-ins the Saturday i’m home I jump right on that. Wake up at 5:30am to get there early? I’ll do it! We get there at 8 and there’s already 2 people ahead of me. No problem, people dont walk in with huge pieces to get done, because that would be super douchey, right? Wrong! Common decency people, don’t have a five hour tattoo done as a walk in, you’re kind of a shit hole. But whatever, i’m committed to this and its happening and i’ll wait. Which for me is a big thing because I am super impatient and hate having to wait. After three hours in and the first person isnt done I start to get a little antsy and angry, I just don’t understand why this lady is getting such a big piece done as a walk in. Whatever, we go get lunch and come back and shes gone. The other guy, chatty cathy, probably would have taken less time if he’d just shut up and sit in the chair.
9 hours later and its finally time for Becky and Greenbeans to get their tattoos. Another bit of time because someone, *cough,cough* Greenbeans, didn’t come prepared with the tattoo he wanted printed out, but then its time and i’m pumped and really hoping I don’t pass out. A pretty uneventful thirty minutes or so and I’m done. Not nearly the amount of pain I had anticipated and the buzzing of the tattoo gun started putting me to sleep, mainly because I napped all day to that sound waiting my turn. All done and its awesome! I love it and regret nothing!!
Greenbeans turn. Make fun of me and tell me not to pass out but who’s the one who was a little Nancy? I’ll let you in on how this went down…
G: Becky, hold my hand.
B: No. Nut up buttercup, its time to be a real man. *I say to the guy getting a Disney tattoo*
G: Hold my hand!
B: You can hold my foot…
At which point he grabs the top and bottom of my foot with his hand and is on his way to breaking my toes one at a time…
B: Grab it sideways, don’t crush my toes A Hole!
G: Give me your ankle!
Fine. Grabs my ankle, no big deal, but then somehow works his way up my calf and is holding on for dear life. It got to the point where he’d grab so tight that his grip would slip off my calf muscles and ends up just pinching my skin. I’m pretty sure watching him get his tattoo was more painful then getting my own.
B: Seriously, stop digging your nails into my calf.
G: I cant help it!
B: Fuckin stop anyway!
I don’t have any bruises yet, but im fairly certain I may end up with a blood clot in the near future because he was squeezing the ever loving life out of my calf.
Oh, and if you were wondering why this post is called ‘Becky and Greenbeans do “Antiquing”…’ its because neither my mother or Mr McGilligans are fans of tattoos, so for their own delicate sensibilities we referred to it as ‘going antiquing‘. The reason we didn’t come back with any antiques at the end of the day? We put them on lay away, you know, because antique shops are like Kmart now…