worst experience ever
The day before my seventeenth birthday, I decided I wanted to get a tattoo. My mom was totally against the idea of me getting a tattoo, so obviously she would not sign a parental consent form. So it was either wait another year to get something I always wanted or find a way to do it without my mom's consent. One of my mom's friends knew a guy who she said was a licensed tattoo artist. His name was Pollock. My mom's friend went with me to meet this guy. He seemed nice enough but there was something fishy about his whole operation he had going. He showed me his "tattoo gun" and all of his ink and whatnot before I agreed to let him tattoo me. I decided to get a heart with two banners with the words "fuck feelings, have fun" inside the banners. One of the other guys in the house we were in drew up my tattoo for me. I decided I wanted it in black and white. It looked like it was going to be a bad ass tattoo. Pollock threw a towel across my shoulders and told me to sit backwards in a kitchen chair. My girlfriend sat in one next to me. He then slapped the paper with my drawn up tattoo on my shoulder and put deodorant on top of the paper. He asked me if that was where I wanted it and I said yes. He was a nice guy but was obviously inebriated at the time. I knew this and thought to myself, "What could possibly go wrong?" He began to do the outlines of my heart. It was probably the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life. It felt like the skin on my shoulder was being ripped off. I felt the needle going into my skin all the way down my arm, even though the tattoo was on my shoulder. Halfway through my tattoo, I lost all feeling in my arm. I felt sick, like I was going to pass out from the pain of it. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he was finished. He said to me, pride in his voice, "Go upstairs to the bathroom and look at it."
So I did. It was all swollen and ugly looking, and there was blood running down my back. I asked him if it was supposed to look that way and he told me it was. I paid him the money he charged me for it, which was only ten bucks, and my girlfriend walked me back to her car and we went back to her house.
That whole first night, I went in and out of consciousness. I was sweaty and I still felt sick. The pain in my shoulder was almost too much for me to handle. All in all though, I felt like a real bad ass. I had a tattoo and my mom had told me no. The only thing was, I had to make sure I kept it hidden from my mom. The first three nights after I got it, I stayed at my girlfriend's house. That fourth night, I decided to go back home. I took a shower when I got home, locking the door so no one could come in. I had managed to hide my tattoo from my mom until I made the mistake of coming out of the bathroom with just my towel on. She saw it and nearly had a heart attack. She was pissed, and she beat the hell out of me. She made me tell her who did my tattoo. Then I had to show her where he lived. She went up to the door and started pounding on it like she was the cops. He came out and she beat the hell out of him too. She tried to have him arrested, but the police told her they c
ould not do anything about it.
A year after I got this tattoo, my mom took me to a local tattoo shop to have it fixed. It was two weeks before prom. My tattoo still looked like shit and I wanted it to be fixed before I went to prom. Me and my mom went in and talked to the guys there about what we needed done and why it looked the way it did. The guys flat out refused to touch it. They said they did not want to touch any of Pollock's work. They told me that they had seen at least twenty girls in their shop in that past year looking to have the tattoos he had done. They said they were tired of fixing what he screwed up. I begged them to fix it. I cried to them and told them all about what he had done to me. I also told them that I had to go to prom, the biggest moment in a high school girl's life, with a jacked up ass tattoo on my shoulder. They finally agreed to do their best to fix it. All they ended up doing was coloring it in with some red and pink and yellow. They also filled in the banner with white t
o try to cover up the jacked up words in them. By now, there was so much scarring in my shoulder I had no feeling in that area. The words in my banners ran together because of all the scarring, so much so that you could not even see that there were words in them.
Two years later, the area around my first tattoo is still swollen and I still have no feeling in that area. Recently I decided to get a second tattoo. My second one looks much better than its predecessor. While having my second tattoo done, I asked the artist if there was ever a chance of my first one being covered up. He said that it would have to be something very large and very dark with a lot of lines in it to cover up the piece of crap on my shoulder. He also told me it would be very expensive and very painful, and that finding someone who would want to do it would probably be extremely difficult since it would be such a big job. So basically, unless I become a very wealthy person here soon, I am stuck looking at the biggest mistake of my life, and explaining to others what exactly that mistake is and what it says. The moral of the story is if your mom says no there probably is a good reason for it, and that you get what you pay for.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 09 July 2008