The day I went in to get my tattoo, I told my friend what to put on my tombstone because I was 100% sure that my mother was going to kill me when she found out about the small black cross on the back of my left shoulder. And mom if you’re reading this … Surprise! Also please remember there are worse things I could do, and don’t disown me.
One year ago
Deciding to get this tattoo wasn’t something I decided the day of or week of or even month of. I first stumbled across a tattoo of a delicate cross over a year ago. While I was tempted to immediately go consult a tattoo artist, I decided to wait a year. As everyone knows, tattoos are permanent, and I didn’t want to look back on my tattoo choice with regret. I decided to wait a year, and if I was still determined to get a tattoo, then I would.
One week before the ink
Oh wow, I’m in a real tattoo parlor. Everyone here seems to have more inked skin than uninked skin. And they all look totally badass. Will I look this badass when I get a tattoo? Probably not. I mean I’m twenty years old and I’m still kind of scared of the dark. How exactly do I make an appointment? Oh yeah I should probably show them a picture of what I want. I wonder if they’re all judging me for pulling up Pinterest. Okay, I made an appointment for next week. Let’s do this.
I need to tell everyone. I need to tell my roommates, my friends from back home, all my sorority sisters, probably some work friends, all my Tinder matches and maybe even the cat who always hangs out around the street I live on. This was a great decision. I am so excited. This is going to be life changing. Next Wednesday cannot come soon enough.
One day before the ink
I need to call all my friends who have tattoos because I need to ask them everything. How much will this hurt? How long does it take to heal? Can I shower with it? What is the likelihood my parents never talk to me again? What kind of soap do I wash this with? What if I cry?
My parents are going to drive straight to Ohio if they find out and rip this tattoo straight from my skin and make me join a convent. I really hope if they make me join a convent it’s one from those calendars called “Nuns Having Fun”.
The day of the ink
Has anyone ever died from getting a tattoo? I better do a quick Google search of biggest tattoo fails. Also for good measure I better look up all the things that could go wrong. What if I don’t like it when it’s done? What if I sneeze and it gets messed up? My bank account is not going to like this decision so maybe I should back out … No, I can’t back out now or everyone is going to think I’m a wimp and I’ll regret it.
During the ink
Well here we go. Time to make tons of conversation with the tattoo artist and pretend that I’m not super nervous even though I think if my hands shake any more they may jump off and run and hide. Okay, he’s cleaning my back. And he just said he’s ready when I am. It’s now or never I guess. That was a really cliché line to use. But I’m freaking out so I’m going to forgive myself for that. This actually doesn’t really hurt at all. I could do this all day. I’m such a badass.
After
That was actually pretty okay. And I’m in love with this tattoo. I am going to get so many more. Time to pick out an Instagram filter. And of course I have to send this to everyone. This was a good choice.