he majority of my adolescent life I begged my mom for a tattoo.Day in and day out for weeks I begged and pleaded. Her response was always the same, "not until you're 18. When you turn 18, you can do whatever you want." And so, I did. On my 18th birthday I went to the tattoo shop with my best friend Mark. I looked around a bit, but I couldn't find anything I really liked-- until I saw the Kanji characters. At that time in my life, I felt like I was lacking a sense of direction. (Who am I kidding? I still feel that way.) Anyway, I chose the character for "lost" and told Joey, (the artist) that I wanted it on the inside of my right ankle. He asked for my ID, and when he noticed it was my 18th birthday he congratulated me and gave his partner, the piercer a knowing look. I'd imagine they get a lot of people coming in as soon as they're legal. It took about 15 minutes for him to prep, and while I was waiting I was panicking, worrying that I would do something dumb, like faint or throw up. So, he called me in to the back room and he had me sit down in a dentist chair. My friend had to stand in the door way, but he still got to watch. He swabbed the area with anti-bacterial stuff and then he did something very strange. He put deodorant on my leg! I was freaking out! I asked him if this was normal, because I had never heard anyone I know who's been tattooed talk about this. He assured me it was, but sometimes I still wonder if maybe I was an unwilling participant in this guy's weird and twisted fantasy. Moving on, next he sketched the design on my skin. It looked great, so I told him to go for it. I gritted my teeth and my eyes widened as he brought the needle closer and closer and closer and then... It didn't hurt one little bit. First he did the outline, and that was a cake walk. The only time it was really uncomfortable was when he got closer to the edges of my leg. Even then, it stung only mildly.It took 40 minutes from the time I walked in the door to the time I started the car. The best way I can describe the feeling is that it felt like scratching a toothpick over sunburned skin. Not exactly painful, but not the best feeling in the world either. The vibration of the gun is numbing, in a way. The only suggestion I have for those of you who are craving ink is this: prepare to get more than one tattoo. Ink is very addicting, and I can't wait till I get the money for more. (By the way, I want to get a fairy on my back next so if anyone knows a good artist in the LA area, Hook me up, if you don't mind.) So after it was all over, Joey slathered some sort of cream on my ankle and put saran-wrap over the tattoo. It bled a bit, but not too badly. He warned me to keep it out of the sun until it healed to prevent fading, and I couldn't go swimming because of the chlorine. I gave him the money, (35 dollars plus a 5 dollar tip) and left the shop. I was so excited! I couldn't wait to show it off, but first I had to stop at the store to get some Neosporin. I was walking through the store when all of a sudden, the saran-wrap falls off in the middle of an aisle! It was really embarassing because it got blood all over the place. To add insult to injury, the pimply faced jackass stock boy refused to clean it up! He told me to do it myself. So I'm sitting here arguing with this twerp and my friend Mark is rolling in the aisle laughing! I got pissed off at the stock boy and left the store. It took me until I got to the car to realize that I'd walked out without paying for the Neosporin. I considered going back, but then I decided, Screw 'em! That's what they get, those capitalistic pigs! So I got home and showed everyone my new tattoo. They all took it quite well, but my brother thought it was so cool that he wanted one, and my mom blames me for partaking in the corruption of the youth of America. It's like, "Hi, my name's scapegoat, but you can call me goat for short." Jeez. Anyway, I hope you've found this informative and compelling, a heart stopping chiller that you just can't put down til the end.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 28 Nov. 1999