My First Tattoo, Process and Reveal

Well, folks, we did it!  Mamma P, Andy, and I had lunch at the Golden Dragon, and then Mamma P and I wandered next door for our tattoo appointments.

Pre-Tattoo selfie

Mamma P came in with an exact idea and was done before the template was set to my skin, since Chad went to draw the idea out.  This meant that I had plenty of time to observe what was to come before it was my turn and to wander around the shop.

First off, the Illinois Tattoo Co has so many different things to look at around the room, not to mention the books and books of their past work.  I could see the smoke from the incense when I looked back to the main window.  And then to look at their stations, there was a lot to look at but for different reasons.  There was a sharps box on the wall and a container of nitrile gloves (latex gloves without the latex).  Each station had various chairs or what I'll call "resting options" for the various positions people might be in for an hour or so.  In addition every station had their own quirkiness of the items that decorated it (including Darth Vader in some oversized Air Jordans) and a container of their various colored inks.

I watched Walter set up his station for Mamma P, checking the placement of where the tattoo would go with her standing, to gauge how things would lay naturally, setting the template and resetting it as much as necessary to see things lining up just right.  A sharpie for the general idea, a template for the actual path.  The template turns purple with your body heat, supplying the outline off of what the artist has intended, to help keep spacings and lettering consistent and even.  Check, recheck, all parties agree, and then it's time to get comfortable.

I was really glad to have watched the process before it was my turn, since I couldn't see anything that was happening behind me.  Tiny cups of ink are laid out, depending on the relevant colors.  The machine itself is set up and tested, with different RPMs and setups for specific purposes.  The affected skin is wiped down with alcohol and shaved (unless it's like an inner lip tattoo, I assume) so that even the vellus hair is out of the way.  Another wipe down or two to keep the area clean.  Then, it's foot to the pedal and holding your breath--pedal for the artist; holding breath for me.

Mamma P's came out lovely!

Evidently the liner moves at a slower RPM and has less needles.  This part was the worst of it, in my estimation.  Mamma P's report was that it wasn't that bad, except for a few places that stung a bit, such as right where the tendon juts up.  I was curious to see how this pain would compare to other pain that I've felt in my life, whether it wouldn't be as bad by comparison or where it would put my brain as part of that.  It felt like a stinging burn, most reminiscent to me of when you get an IV that isn't in correctly, and the saline push ends up flooding under the skin, a very particular sharp sting.  I could feel my body tensing immediately, and I had to remind myself to keep breathing, making exaggerated breaths to help me find a pattern again.  As expected, some areas hurt more than others.  But it was in bursts.  He frequently repositioned his hand and my skin in some different ways, which meant that I could recover briefly, but with the understanding that he would stop if/when I needed a break--I took him up on this twice in the two hours.

Still, though, about two minutes in I definitely had the thought of "what have I done?"  My body wanted to leave but was also frozen in place.  That was a flavor of familiar that did not sit well.  So, to recap, it stung, I couldn't see what was happening, and it was putting me back in my trauma space--that was a lot to take in.  It started to get better as some of the adrenaline started wear down, where I could feel myself trembling but still calmer, making faces when certain parts were particularly uncomfortable but otherwise handling it fine.  Once we got into the shading part (faster RPM, more needles at once), the process didn't seem to hurt nearly as much, though still stinging.

Here was the key difference--I have endured pain out of choice because that is what I needed to do to get better.  It was ugly but healthy; a hard decision but a necessary one.  This kind of pain was different.  I made a choice to sit in a chair for two hours and have needles pierce down to my dermis not because it was the lesser of two evils.  I had the autonomy to choose for my own body for something that I wanted to.  It was cathartic, choosing pain in order to make something beautiful.  And the message is also another expression of radical self-acceptance.  

Anyway, without further ado, here it is!

The redness should go away eventually
Also, I opted against putting my in-progress pictures up
Because they showed more butt crack than I wanted to display today

You know when you're going through a store that has appliances and whatever else and they have a placard up about how the floor model is there to show the look but not the function?  Well, I'm having a sense of humor about my body, that since my colostomy there are parts that don't work "normally."  The text of "For Display Use Only" pokes fun at that and myself, recognizing the reality of the situation without wallowing in it.  That text is encased in something unique and beautiful.  I want to think of myself that way, that I have some things that can be seen as broken and nonfunctional, but speak some of those elements through a particular perspective and humor, that it can become something beautiful and unique.

So, long story short, I'm pleased as anything with my new tattoo.  The couple of days after, it felt like a bad sunburn--sensitive to pressure and heat--but this was at least a kind of familiar pain in that sense.  The skin is a little raised still around those fresh lines and warm to the touch, but I'm tending to it as instructed:  keeping it clean and moisturized with some very gentle soaps and products.  Specifically, I was instructed to "treat it like an open wound," which caused a few sarcastic remarks to ping off in my head, considering I have a vast experience with treating open wounds on myself, but none of these were helpful.  I'm comparing it to wearing a favorite outfit or my Gryffindor panties on days when I want a little extra courage to myself, like I have a small, secret boost of power.  

Chad did a fantastic job taking the idea and adding the beautiful detail and shading in his own style.  I had a great experience and left with a wonderful piece of art that I can carry with me.