One and a half years late
little kid my parents would tease me as we drove past tattoo studios. "Laura, want a tattoo?" they'd ask. Because of my fear of needles and my temper I would get mad and start yelling. I couldn't imagine someone voluntarily sitting there while someone else used needles to stick ink under their skin. Somewhere around 13 I started thinking about how cool it would be. The next time they asked me I said "Yes! Can we please stop?" My father almost drove the car into a tree. For a while I forgot about tattoos, but then my father came home with a branding. It was of a beautiful celtic knot on his left hip. I was about 16. Right then and there I decided that someday I would get a tattoo. I wanted a g-clef on my ankle. I told my father and he thought I was nuts. I told him it wasn't any crazier than him getting a branding. He looked at me to see if I was serious, then told that he would pay for my tattoo as my high school graduation gift. I was thrilled and said I wouldn't go unless he came with me. Unfortunatly, my father passed away 3 months before I graduated. Since my mother didn't know about our deal, and still doesn't, I didn't get it right after graduation like I had planned. I still wanted a tattoo, though. I just didn't feel right doing it without Dad. After all, I had promised. Life went prety normally after high school. I had an awesome summer, and moved to Philadelphia for school. In Philly I discovered South Street. It's a wonderful place with unusal shops, piercers and tattoo studios. Several times I went into a tattoo studio to look at the art on the walls and talk to the artist about price and pain. But I never got the tattoo I wanted. On one trip to South St. I changed my mind about where I wanted my g-clef, instead of the ankle I would get it on the back of my shoulder. My freshman year I ended up with two more holes in each ear, as well as a belly button ring - which my mother hates. I'm now a sophomore and spring semester looms. To celebrate the end of fall classes my friend Christy and I went to South Street. She was going to get her belly button pierced, I was finally going to get my tattoo. We went to the piercest first. Christy bare her stomach, gritted her teeth, and now sports a solid silver ring. We went to the tattoo studio next, but I lost my nerve and we left. I also didn't think I could afford it - I had been quoted a price of $110, more than I had in both of my bank accounts. Christy and I went out for dinner and she offered to lend me the money I didn't have. She also said that if I didn't do it she'd understand. I decided that I was going to do it. We went back to the studio and I showed the artist what I wanted. I thought I was going to pass out as he showed me how he sterilized everything and got everything ready. Finally he had me straddle a chair. I clenched my teeth gripped the back of the chair as hard as I could with one hand while my other hand clutched at my father's necklace that I always wear. I heard the needle start and looked at Christy. I couldn't believe I was doing it. The needle hit my skin and I instantly relaxed. It didn't hurt at all. Two weeks and 13 days after my 20th birthday I finally got my tattoo. That was two days ago. It cost me 60 dollars and took just under ten minutes, and it was worth it. So far everything's healing nicely. I put lotion on it every 3-4 hours and keep it out of the spray of the shower. I'm a little afraid of problems since I see so many different aftercare instructions, but I'm sticking with the tattoo artists instructions. My friends all love it, and my brother can't wait to see it. He told me that now he wants one too, if I can do it he can do it. (He's sixteen) I'm sure my mother feels the same way too, although I can't get her to admit it.
I'm already planning my next tattoo, a devil or an angel with a devil's tail and horns on my right hip. My roommate is helping me design it. We're taking pictures and cartoons off of the internet and modifying it a little bit so that it looks almost like me. I thought one would be enough for me, but I'm hooked. Tattoos, for me, are better than piercing. They're more individual, unique. I'll admit it, I'm hooked.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 12 Dec. 1999