I’ve been kicking around tattoo ideas for a couple of years. (I used to joke that there was nothing I loved enough to get tattooed to my body, except maybe a short stack of pancakes.) Things just never lined up for me to actually pull the trigger on it until this weekend when I found myself in a Seattle tattoo shop. I texted my husband, David, and told him I was getting a tattoo. Knowing I had a couple of different things in mind, he asked what I had decided on, and I told him I was going to get Boba Fett. (I am the nerd of David Conlee’s dreams.) His reply was “haha! Sexy.” So glad my husband has a sense of humor. However, my tattoo artist Nick did not appear to. When he asked why I was laughing, I told him about the exchange I had with David, and he said, “Some people do find that sexy.”, which made me laugh until I realized he wasn’t actually joking.
Nick was completely covered in tattoos. He was really nice, but very serious. I told him what I had in mind, he drew something up, and minutes later I am sitting in a chair having the word “Love” permanently inked on my person. (No, I didn’t get Boba Fett. Or a short stack.)
Nick began to shave my wrist in preparation of the tattoo. I said, “Are you trying to tell me my wrist is hairy, sir?!” and he very matter-of-factly explained that he was removing tiny body hairs because they sometimes have germs that can cause infection, etc. You shouldn’t give a bad time to someone who is humor-impaired. Or, maybe it’s just MY humor. When he got to work on my tattoo, he asked what I did for a living. I told him I was a church secretary. “Are you serious?”, he said. I get that a lot.
There is a crazy rush of adrenaline that happens when you get a tattoo. I understand its addictive nature now. The pain I experienced was very minimal, and I would compare it to a burning feeling. It took about 5 minutes when it was all said and done.
Yes, I am aware I have altered my appearance forever. Don’t worry, I am sure it’s not going to affect my modeling career much.
A friend asked this morning, “What do you think that will say when you’re 80?” I said, “Who cares! It’ll be on my elbow by then!”