As most know, I go get a tattoo once a year, usually on Good Friday. This is the first year I had to shift it slightly since I started the tradition, and while it twinged a bit to do so at first, it turned out just fine. I was traveling on the Friday, so I instead went Easter Monday and I went through the rest of the experience the same way that I always do. For about a week or so beforehand, I worked on the design. I like to get there with it pretty much done so there's very little the artist has to do. It's cheaper that way for one, and for another, it makes the ink even more completely mine – because I did everything up to the point of the actual inking. So far, I have four cat prints, a tree on my calf, a two-part tribute to my favorite books on one arm, a sun on my lower back, an armband on the other arm, and then the new one. This new one was easier to render than some of the others as it consists of line work and no fill. It's a face my father has drawn since he was in college; a face whose name I recently learned was Witch Hazel. This will become more significant in a moment. The first thing I do is scan the image in, then crop and print it. This leaves the original intact. I go over the lines with a marker so that they are darker and more consistent in weight. Then I scan it in again and open up Microsoft Paint. I'm sure I could learn a more sophisticated editing program, but Paint seems to work, so I have never bothered. I then go through the process of cleaning up the lines, erasing any extraneous lines, and tweaking anything that needs tweaked. As for this new one, I was going to add swirls around her head to match the armband I already have on that arm, but I decided it would look strange, so I ditched that idea. Instead, I thought it might be fun to work in the first words I've ever had inked. On one side of her head, I put Witch Hazel in fancy letters with a heart doodle down near her neck. On the other side, I put Sunshine – which is dad's nickname for me. I put another doodle on this side – this one of a sun. It came out pretty nice, in my opinion – and since it's on my arm, that seems important. The sun is a theme across all my tattoos, and the Hazel is even more special because my grandfather used to call me Professor Hazelnut. I like synchronicity.
Once I'm content with the whole thing, I get it to the right size and when the day comes, I put it in the car and meet up with whoever is going with me. I never go alone. Sometimes it's my very-tattooed buddy, sometimes it's my parents. I also get cash. They have an ATM there, but it is painful for me to take that much out of a machine, so I usually try to devise plans for it to seem less 'lump-sum' scary. I also know that it saves them money if I bring cash – so I make it work. We then head out – stopping at Bruegger's on the way to get a bagel. I always arrive at the place at least 40 minutes before it opens. The reason for this is that they run on a first come-first served basis, and I like to be first. The longer I wait around, the more nervous I get. So, chatter and music in the car until they open the door, and then we head in. I tell the receptionist what I want – she might be starting to recognize me, but it's hard to say since it's only once a year. She disappears for awhile and comes back with any comments from the artist and with a price. I agree, and the artist gets to work making any adjustments and creating the transfer. Then, it's time.
It's rarely as bad as I remember and it seems to be getting easier every time. This time, I had Gooch. I don't always remember the artist, but I think I will this time. He's good – chats with me just enough to feel comfortable, but not so much that it feels awkward and fake. He advises with placement, lays the transfer, and gets started. The room is always cool and filled with strange monster heads, a few taxidermied animals, and either loud rock music or a movie. This year, it was The Big Lebowski. Once the needle touches down, I sort of slip away mentally; the pain isn't really that bad, considering how intolerant of it I usually am. It's just a constant stinging/burning sensation. I tense up while it's happening and if there's any fill, I usually start to sweat a bit. The artist has only ever had to stop once and that was with the lower back. Not much cushioning there. That and the inner arm were probably the two most painful places. The bicep isn't too bad – except this time, Gooch had to ask me to shake my arm out. The involuntary response to localized trauma is a tightening of the muscle. He said that with any other kind of tattoo it wouldn't matter much, but with a face, it mattered. If I didn't keep the muscle relaxed, the face would come out looking warped. So, I did my best and judging from the results, I did alright. As far as sessions go, it was an easy one – all lines, no fill, no shading. The lines are crisp, sharp, and fine. It looks incredibly cool, and it's fun to have something dad drew on my arm. Next year, I'll likely get my other calf done – and the pain-story might be a little bit different. But that's a year away, so I don't have to think about it for awhile.
The funniest part of this trip was something Gooch said as he worked. He didn't chatter much, as I said, but he did make sure that I was doing okay. I can't say I blame him, I'm not sure it would be good if the client suddenly passed out in the middle of a session. To complete the image I'm trying to paint, I'd like to point out that Gooch is a pretty big guy. He's not tall, he's just thick. Covered in ink, himself, he is, in some ways, a stereotypical-looking tattoo artist. He has a very nice voice, though, and a gentle way about him – you can tell he's an artist and cares about his work. Halfway through the session, he stopped for a moment and said, "You okay, mama?" and for some reason, that struck me. It is partially amusing to me because to most actual mamas, the smell of A&D Ointment would remind them of babies and diapers. For me, the smell of it always makes me think of new ink. Beyond that, it's the first time I've been called Mama and while I suppose it's a sign that I'm getting "older", I still thought it was cool. I'm not sure I can explain way. I'm not sure I have to…
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