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Scarring Over Tattooing

    Considering I have 17 earrings, a desire to "fill 'em up," so to speak, and an insatiable lust for piercing, cutting and tattooing, my family had long been betting on how long it would take before I gave in to actually getting a tattoo.  Seriously considering the challenge, I pondered designs, thought about locations and even visited a parlor or two.  The problem was that I'm a cutter by nature, and I've always been more fascinated by thin lines of white flesh and little ribbed red skin than the more mundane inkings I'd seen (Not to insult the avid tattoo fans, it's just personal preference.).

Bringing this problem to the attention of my best friend Ryan, he promptly whipped out his Ka-bar and doused it in alcohol.  "What do you want?"  Gulp.  I'd thought of it before, but I'd never truly considered that he would pull out a blade on the spot and offer to cut into my flesh.  Who knew where that knife had been?  Actually, I knew where that knife had been, he had tried to cut through a wall with it just that morning out of sheer boredom.  What if I got an infection?  What if..?

I'd like to take this time to advise everyone out there that, while extraordinary products, Ka-bars are not quite meant for this purpose. After giving myself a bath in alcohol, laying down on my waterbed – another bad idea, folks, waterbeds MOVE, and putting very sharp things on a bed that will leak if poked, as well as putting those same sharp things against very vulnerable flesh while the slightest jerk from an unsuspecting victim could render a small cut into a very bad situation indeed – I had decided to have a small heart put on my left hip. I closed my eyes and tried to think of happy thoughts, and after a few moments of trying to slice into my flesh, he discovered that Ka-bars aren't the right tools for cutting delicate ladies' hips. A few passes only barely separated the first layer of skin, and I was looking for blood. Being the insidious self-mutilator that I am, I grabbed my handy razorblades and sterilized them as best as I could.

After a few reassuring comments, I settled against the bed and he started to cut.  Boy, it didn't take much to cut the skin with that razorblade!  I watched, though I just wanted to float away, as my skin parted beneath the shiny blade, tiny droplets of blood forming at the wound, more and more blood appearing as he cut deeper and deeper.  I was prepared for the pain, as I'd done it before, and even tried to carve my own heart into my arm – but I'd never let someone else draw the blade for me.  I could relax and let the feelings sweep me away, and sweep they did.  The euphoric effect of the pain and the blood flowing promptly zoned me out in a way I wasn't ready for – it was almost a post-coital effect, each draw of the blade to deepen the heart jolting me into space further and further as I drifted in a sea of pain-induced pleasure.  I never thought cutting could feel so good.

I barely heard him say "Oops," and in the end, it didn't matter – he had accidentally cut the heart lop-sided, and when he went back to even it out, the heart appeared to be broken, having a bloody line through it – absolutely perfect, as it was an unexpected effect that I never knew I wanted.  The orgasmic effect lasted for quite awhile as I opened my eyes, seeing my tiny heart bleeding down my hip, and I couldn't even feel if it hurt at all.  It healed nicely with a delicate little pink scar.

Something I hadn't expected was the monumental trust it takes to allow someone to draw a blade to your skin, and I hadn't even batted an eye.  I didn't think about it until after it was all over – I'd let people pierce my ears, my navel, random piercings such as that and yet it somehow seemed different when instead of a piercing "gun" or a needle, it was a blade.  My advice is if you don't have that trust... don't do it.  It's an intimate experience, in my opinion – whether sexual or otherwise, as it had been with me, though the orgasmic effect certainly made that a bit weird – and if you can't trust the person on the other end of the blade not to screw up or cut too deep, the experience won't be as great as it could be.

My only grievance with the situation is that I'm allergic to medical tape, and now, I have a straight "L"-shaped scar above my heart, mimicking the area where the tape stuck to my skin and had a reaction.  I didn't get an infection, as I cleaned it with alcohol regularly, and though it may have been dangerous to do, I was quite pleased.  All in all, the experience was wonderful, and I'm glad that I'd gotten a pretty scar instead of a little tattoo.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 19 July 2003
in Scarification

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