For many years, ever since I was about 13 or 14, I thought about getting a tattoo. I thought about it that whole time, trying to decide on a design that I would love for years to come, that wouldn't look terrible when I was 80 and that I would be proud to wear on my skin.
At A Glance Author GekkoGeck0 Contact gekkogeck0@yahoo.ca IAM GekkoGeck0 When Two years ago Artist Strider Studio Tattoos by Strider Location Winnipeg, MB I finally found a little lizard that I thought would look interesting, slightly modified. It was a tiny little thing wrapped around a sun that I found, surprisingly enough, as a temporary tattoo. I scanned it, removed the sun, put thicker parts at the end of its fingers to make it look closer to a gecko's finger pads, and put a stripe of colour down its back. Perfect. I loved it. So, to be safe, I thought about it for another two years, giving myself enough time to make sure my tastes wouldn't change very easily and that I would be content with it at the very least.
It probably helped that I hadn't turned 18 yet, either.
Fast forward to the year that I turned 18. I was excited, now I was free! Free to tattoo myself, no matter what parent said what about body modifications. My only limitation was money, but that was soon solved.
I got just over $200 for my 18th birthday, and I figured that a 3x2 inch tattoo with a small stripe of colour should be affordable for me, so I started shopping around for a tattoo artist.
Now here comes my last moment of teenage stupidity. I was legally an adult, but apparently hadn't gotten the irresponsible impulse urges out of my system yet.
I called around Winnipeg to a few different shops, first taking a recommendation from an acquaintance to try a shop down in St. James. They were booked solid for many months and were also leaving for vacation for a month, so it would be a while before I could even come in for a consultation.
I was impatient. I was willing to wait a few weeks, but a few months just seemed way too long to wait, so I whipped out the Yellow Pages and called Tattoos by Strider. The guys I talked to there seemed very friendly and warm and were willing to answer my questions at the time. I made an appointment for a consultation for a few days later.
My excitement built up, I was extremely anxious and couldn't wait till I could go down, get the consult, and make my official appointment.
The day finally rolled around and I was overjoyed. I had to go to the library first to get the image printed out, because my printer's been on the fritz for a few years now. After the frustration of trying to print it out on the printer and having to pay for it, I finally had a nice laser copy of the gecko on paper.
I went down to the studio and walked in. The walls were totally covered with flash from ceiling to floor, and there were thick books filled with flash on the counter. No portfolio that I could see. Which didn't matter, because I didn't ask. One of my first large mistakes.
I showed the guy at the counter the tattoo, and Strider came out and said that it would be fine, but it would cost about $220. I was dismayed and confused. It didn't make much sense to me, but I didn't question it at the time. He said he could do it for cheaper if I resized it. I asked if I could use his photocopier, but he said no, I have to go to the pharmacy down the street and resize it.
So I march down there and pay 75 cents to recopy it. I shrunk it down a little, enough so I thought I would be able to afford it, and enough that I thought it would still retain a lot of detail and be the size that I could be happy with.
I walked back in, and was told that I could get that tattoo for $200. I told him I only had $160 on me, he told me to go back and resize it again.
I did this four times before he said he could do it. I was unsatisfied with the size of the gecko entirely, but I decided to go for it anyway. So what if it was so small?
I asked if I could make an appointment to get it done, and they got out their appointment book. I took a glance at the book, and it was almost entirely blank, so I looked around the shop again to see if anyone was waiting. There wasn't, so I decided to ask if I could get it done that day. They said, sure, we're not usually busy. I should have taken that as a hint that this was a bad idea too, but no. Of course not.
He asked for my ID and gave me a consent form to sign. I didn't have photo ID, just my SIN number and birth certificate, but he accepted it without even pausing.
He said I should come with him into the back, and I asked if I could take my fiancé with me, but he said no, he has to stay out there. I shrugged and didn't mind that much, but I was really nervous. First tattoo jitters and everything.
I followed him into the little room in the back and blinked twice. The floor tiles were cracked and a brownish grey colour when it was rather obvious that at some point they were white, the reclining chair's vinyl was cracked with the stuffing showing, and it looked worse than a bus station's bathroom. Yet another hint that I should have promptly walked out and taken my money to someone who could at least take a mop to a tiled floor.
But I sat down in the chair. My gut started giving me this pain, the kind of pain that screams in your mind's ear, "WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" But I didn't listen to that, either. Apparently all common sense had packed its bags and took a not-so-well timed vacation.
He asked me where I wanted the tattoo and I rolled up my right sleeve and slapped my upper arm. "Right here." I looked at the transfer he was about to put on my arm. It was poorly drawn and the lines were all broken up, but I figured that perhaps that was just the way he did things and he would fill in the parts correctly and leave me with the tattoo I wanted. Never assume.
He applied the transfer and asked me if I liked where it was. Mind you, I was looking at the tattoo upside down because I couldn't get a good view of my shoulder. He didn't hold up a little hand mirror to let me see, and there wasn't a mirror in the room so I could stand up and look at it either. It looked good at the time, upside down, so I said it was fine. Then he set up the tattoo machine with the one tiny little well of black ink. Where's the colour I mentioned? He told me that I couldn't get the colour, because the black would 'bleed' into the stripe and make the colour illegible. Again, another indicator that this was a bad idea, among many others you'll see in this experience.
He started tattooing. The largest gut pain yet happened just before he applied the needles to my skin, and I should have listened to it. One of the reasons I didn't is because after all the piercings I've had, almost each one gave me a feeling of "What am I doing?", but I never regretted any of them. I thought the tattoo would be the same way. So I got tattooed.
The least apprehensive experience of all of this was actually getting tattooed. The pain felt like a razor blade being gently dragged across my skin and wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was bad for the first five minutes but rapidly became very easy to deal with. The alcohol wipe he used to wipe the extra ink off of my skin was very soothing.
He never switched needles and both lined and filled the whole tattoo with the same set of needles.
It only took 25 minutes to complete my tattoo. He bandaged it up and gave me a business card with aftercare instructions on the back and promptly shooed me out the door.
I took the bus home and left the bandage on for the amount of time he recommended (I can't remember exactly how long that was, suffice to say it was more than a few hours). When I got a good look at it in the mirror for the first time, I was totally devastated. The cute small lizard didn't have an eye to speak of, just a tiny little white spot that looked more like he just didn't fill it in properly. The little hands looked more like blunt pitchforks, not the gracefully positioned and thin fingers in the original. The legs were bent all wrong, not straight and even like the ones I saw in my picture and imagined on my skin. There are very small, and hardly noticeable white streaks throughout the whole lizard's back where he didn't fill it properly. All the fine lines came out thick and blurry. The neck was very thick and stumpy and the head was way too big. Even the body was bent all wrong. And there's a faint grey halo around the whole thing.
I tried to be happy, I really did. I took good care of it, didn't pick my scabs and was very gentle with it through the whole healing process. I still had some ink loss, right on the tip of the nose from a scab that got caught on my bedsheets and got pulled off too early. I didn't even bother thinking about a touchup. I was never going back there again.
Today, I live with a tattoo that I don't exactly hate, but just makes me sad to look at whenever I happen to glance at my shoulder. I have mixed feelings of regret, sadness and hope... Hope that someday I'll come up with a new design to help enhance this tattoo that was supposed to make me happy into something that actually WILL make me happy. I still like my little gecko, he just needs some work.
And this time I will be going to a tattoo artist that will work with me, design with me, and not make me feel rushed or apprehensive about anything. And a tattoo artist that has enough common sense to mop their floors.
I will never set foot into another place that doesn't look like I could eat off of any surface in the entire place, nor will I ever enter a studio that doesn't have clients in their appointment book and an empty foyer.
Please, if you stuck with me and read to the end of this experience, don't repeat my mistakes. I was old enough to know better but young enough to do it anyway. A tattoo is for life, and if it's not going to make you happy forever, don't get it. For that matter, make sure that if you're happy with what you want, that you have an artist that you're comfortable with, comfortable talking to, and doesn't make you feel like you can't ask them anything you want about your tattoo.
I embrace my very last moment of my flighty teenage stupidity for what it was, and someday I will have the tattoo that I want.
GekkoGeck0