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Tattoos are thicker than blood

24 when I got my first tattoo. I had been thinking about getting a tattoo for at least seven years. I grew up in one of the less major cities of western New York, and watched as many of my friends became tattooed. I was envious, but scared. Scared of what my mother would think, scared that I would permanently imprint something on my body that I would hate years later, ect. After I graduated high school, I moved to Boston, MA. I quickly came to find, to my dismay, that tattooing is illegal in MA. What a kick in the groin: moving from a somewhat conservative, small city to a rockin', party city, only to find that I could not realize my long held desire to become tattooed. Throughout the years, I met tattooed people, only to hear that they had either gotten their marks in other states (NY, ME, RI, NH) or had gone to friends, becomeing tattooed "illegally". I had no car to travel to other states, and I was worried about the infection and/or lack of professionalism I may encounter if I went to a "friend". About eleven months ago, my mother announced to me that she was going to get married to a man she had been living with for a few months (my parents have been divorced since I was 7). While the announcment itself was not a shock, my mother's fiance has a daughter, about my age, that I had not met. We are both only children, and, I suspect, were both terribly afraid of meeting eachother. A meeting was arranged last February. Casey (my new stepsister) and I got along famously. Along with the fact that she has a voracious taste for beer, she also has a few beautiful tattoos. Her tattoos only increased my desire to put a permanent mark on my body. In April, I went to visit Casey in San Antonio, TX. During the planning of this trip, and the flight itself, I could not help thinking about the fact that I would be in a place where tattooing is legal. Casey and I went out to luch after she picked me up from the airport. Quickly, somehow, the conversation turned to tattoos. I expressed my desire to get a tattoo. Casey brought up the idea of getting matching tattoos. Until that time, I had always thought of matching tattoos as something that drunken lovebirds did on their wedding night, and ended up regretting forever. Based on that thought, I saw matching tattoos as tacky, silly and a downright dumb thing to do. But, in light of my new sisterhood, this suggestion struck me as very right. I had always wanted to get a tribal/celtic band on my lower back. I mentioned this to Casey, and she seemed to like the idea. A few days later, we went to the tattoo place where she had gotten one of her tattoos. I was a little nervous, but very excited. I met Anthony, the artist, and we looked at some of his work. Casey and I decided on a pretty, scrolly band. Yes, it was a peice of the artist's work, displayed on the wall. Perhaps not the most original thing in the world, but we chose to have it broken apart, and put back together, to make it longer, to span our entire lower backs. While Casey had another piece done (to cover up a mistake previously marked on her arm) I drove back to her apartment, to retrieve my ID. Yes, I was an idiot, and forgot my ID, to prove that I was over 18. Once back at the parlor, Casey's replacement tattoo was almost done. Anthony made the carbon drawing that would be placed onto my skin. Once the copy was in place, I couldn't be more happy. Now, the only thing in question was the pain. Actually, except for my sides, it didn't hurt all that much (my sides, the sensitive flesh, hurt like a bitch). A few times, during the part that went over my spine, I got a weird, icky vibration that seemed to spread over my entire body. But, even that part was kinda cool. While I'm not a masochist, I found myself breathing throught the pain, and accepting it. I knew that the end result would be a permant work of beauty. When the tattoo was done, I was so happy. Happy that I had a large work as my first tattoo, not just some little, girly flower. And also happy that my new sister was about to receive the same tattoo. Our parents (and the rest of our family) were initially horrified at the the thought of both of us having long, thick, black tattoos on our backs. However, after seeing the matching scrolls, everyone agreed to the fact that they are a wonderfull testiment to our eternal bond. We may not be related by blood, but we are related by tattoos! In ink, and love, we are family.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 03 Jan. 2000
in Tattoos

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Artist: Anthony
Studio: Arc+Angel+Tattooing
Location: Universal+City%2C+TX

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