The Tattoo

Yes, I have a tattoo. And yes, you can see it, if the weather's warm enough for short sleeves. Or if you ask me. Politely.

I'm just old-fashioned enough that I wouldn't get it in one of those more personal places, for two reasons. First, they tend to hurt more. And second, if it's not something I'd want to show everyone, why would I want some stranger spending an hour or more working on that spot of skin?

My tattoo is placed and designed like a bracelet. I got it shortly after I was diagnosed with a nickel allergy, and leery about unidentified metals in contact with my skin. It was also after an incident with a pushy salesman in one of my favorite stores to buy southwestern art in, the Grey Wolf in Scottsdale. This was back when I occasionally had a budget for those sorts of things. I had been looking at pendants with opal and onyx inlays, and had in fact purchased two, when I paused to admire similar bracelets.

I knew better than to try them on. First, I wasn't all that serious about actually owning one of them. Second, they were in a rigid "C" form, and I figured they were a bit tiny for my wrists. I wear men's watchbands quite comfortably, but not women's. The salesman noticed me admiring the artistry of the bracelets and offered to let my try one on. When I declined, saying that my wrists were too large for them, he took one out of the case and jammed it on my wrist anyway. Apparently he thought I was an idiot and a sucker, both, and he had some right to do that.

I was outraged. Plus, tight as it was, my wrist immediately started swelling around it, thanks to my dermatographism. I knew it would only get worse, fast, and tried to pull the bracelet off. No go. I coolly held out my wrist to him, informing him that he needed to remove the bracelet because I couldn't. I further informed him that since he had placed it there against my wishes, if he couldn't remove it, I would consider it a gift, leaving without paying for it. It took him about a full minute, but he did finally remove it, leaving behind a very red and puffy, sore wrist.

I hope he learned something, but I haven't been back since to check.

Some months later, I woke up one morning having designed a tattoo bracelet in my dream, and with a need to have it done. I had never before even considered getting a tattoo. I grew up thinking that only sailors and "bad people" ever got them, they spread diseases from dirty needles, and that they were inevitably ugly. Recently however they had started appearing in bright colors on women's ankles, shoulders, and no doubt in less revealed places, but at any rate were becoming much more mainstream. After checking that there was no nickel in either the inks or needles, I decided to head out one Saturday morning and pursue getting one of my own.

There was a local shop in Lindstrom, but they didn't bother to answer their phone. The place in Forest Lake did, and were informative about hours, cost, and other details including where to find them in their strip mall. After arriving, one gentleman set me to perusing the designs they had ready, or stressed we could design something unique if that was wanted. I found parts of two different designs to piece together, so that's what we did, ending up with two tiny hummingbirds facing each other in flight, with impossibly long tail feathers draping down and curving around my wrist to make a bracelet of ink. The designs got joined on paper to my satisfaction, and sent through a copier that rendered it in a format that left an ink pattern on skin when applied there. That gave him the outline to start inking from. He sat me down in one of his special super-comfy chairs and did the outline in black.

My granddaughter, who is talking about getting her own tattoo, asked me if it hurts. So, somebody has a power-needle speed-jabbing into your skin, while they occasionally pause to wipe off the blood so they can still see the design, and you wonder if it hurts? Duh! Some places have more nerve endings at skin level than others, and those places hurt more. Avoid them if it seems to be a problem. For me, the inside of the wrist was more painful than the back. Luckily much less ink went there. (As an aside, the double-dose of antihistamine I took ahead of time prevented any skin reaction during the process.)

Then I made my first mistake. My plan had been to color the birds like broad-billed hummingbirds, which is mostly bright green with indigo blue fronts and red bills. I let myself get talked into doing the tails in lavender instead of the green I wanted. I know, dumb, huh?

It wasn't my only mistake, but the next one came from poor information. I was told to keep the skin supplied with a good skin lotion to prevent scabbing over. Scabbing pulls the ink out for some reason, and those spots have to be re-inked. I chose the best lotion in my arsenal, meaning one with oil in it. Oil prevents air from getting to the skin, and that keeps it from healing. Nobody mentioned avoiding oil until it was too late.

The last mistake wasn't mine. Had it been, I wouldn't still be annoyed by it all these years later. When I had the tattoo re-inked after it finally healed, having scabbed in a few places and needing touch-ups, the needle-guy decided to add a few extra lines all on his own initiative, completely messing up one wing. There is no going back and fixing it. There was no refund either. I just told people not to use him, to find a better artist. He moved his shop several months later, and I have no clue if he's still in the business.

One thing has changed since then. I'm much more aware of other people's ink: patterns, colors, and locations. Having my own, I'm much more likely to compliment theirs, assuming I actually like it. People seem more willing to talk about theirs if you have one too. It can go too far however: one guy thought it gave him implied permission to touch my tattoo and come on to me. Had I not been wearing a company uniform at the time, it could have gotten pretty rude. You know, rude like in swearing at him, or perhaps a well-placed slap. By the time I actually realized how offended I was, it was my turn at the counter to pick up a customer's order and leave. Next time, however, I'll be more prepared.

Over all it was a positive experience, though there are things I'd change. Would I do it again? Probably not. Once seems to be enough, at least for me. And the choice seems to be stop at one, or just keep going because there's always another design you might want and another spot to cover, another cool color or six....