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06 June 2006

Tattoo Me!

In response to Chase's recent POST, I decided to post a pic of my tattoo as well. In the comments, I was telling her that I'd wanted to get a tat for some time and finally got up the nerve to do it last year for my birthday. I don't like needles much and I have a VERY low tolerance for pain. I psyched myself out of it two years ago around my birthday, but last year was my year. Or not. Depending on how you look at it.

I knew from the get-go that I wanted something to do with my zodiac sign. If you didn't catch the hint, I'm a Gemini. All the traits fit me to a T. Since it's what I am, I thought I would go with that. The girls are a variation of my company logo (which has recently changed) and were drawn by my fiancee. We went to the same place where he had his two done (Artistic Tattoo on the corner of 7th Ave and Camelback), and even had the same tattoo artist (Heather). She did two things that she "thought" would keep my mind off the pain:

1) Take deeps breaths because my body would produce adrenaline, therefore no pain and

2) Put on a DVD. I chose King Arthur with hottie Clive Owen (he should've been the new James Bond, dammit, not that craptacular blond haired dude. James Bond SO does not have blond hair)

So here's me, taking deep breaths...and then holding them. Because, yeah, I dunno, it F****ING HURT!! If I'd kept taking deep breaths, I would've passed out! I couldn't even enjoy the friggin' movie because of all the background noise.

I forced Steven to talk to me. About anything. If he paused for even a second, I was practically shouting, "Keep talking!" I was squeezing that beanbag pillow so hard, I was bending my nails back (once they start getting long, they get soft when moist, therefore easier to bend). It only took an hour, maybe less than that, but it felt like we'd been there all friggin' day.

So, here's the bad news: I thought I could start using my own bath and body products after a week. Scented bath and body products, by the way. Yeah, that was a real big no-no. The products didn't like the ink too much--or maybe vice versa--and decided to rebel.

I got THE WORST allergic reaction in the entire history of tattoo-dom. My calf turned an angry fires-of-burning-Hell red, blistered (like wow-that-looks-like-some-kind-of-unknown-disease blistering) to the point it felt like someone was stretching my skin, and was in general so agitated that my ankle swelled up. I went to the urgent care at my job, where they gave me ointment cuz it was itchy. Then I went to another urgent care facility, where the doctor thought it was infected and prescribed some kind of pills and some kind of ointment...cuz it was itchy. Still. Then I went to my own doctor (think Malcolm X, but bald with a mustache) where I was promptly lectured to (Gee, Dr. R, I didn't know you were my Dad) and given the same pills, but had to take them less frequently.

Well, my body didn't like that too much. I couldn't sleep at night (poor Steven). I felt like I wanted to crawl out of my skin and I broke out in hives. Not all over, mind you (scary thought), but enough to know that I was having an allergic something I was taking. Finally, Dr. Malcolm X said "Just don't do anything. Stop taking the medication, don't use the ointment. Just let it be".

I thought for sure I was going to lose my leg. It was the longest 2 weeks of my life.

*sprawled out in a chair, looking frazzeled*. God, I get tired now just thinking about that ordeal. As you can see, it healed, everything's fine. And no, I'm not going back to have it filled in. What's the matter for you? Are ya nuts?

Heather might've done a bang-up job on Steven's tats--and mine--but I have learned my lesson:

No more tattoos for me.
posted by GeminiWisdom @ 9:46 PM |


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