Thursday, March 13, 2008

Pierced

Every now and then, when I get bored with the state of my life, I get something pierced.

C was getting out of work early, so she called and asked me if I wanted to go talk to my tattoo artist about the ink I’m getting next month, and I said,

“Sure. Sounds good.”

I called before I left, “Hey, uh, I have an appointment with S next month and, uh, I was wondering if she was gonna be around today to talk about the design I want and if, like, she wouldn’t be too busy.”

“Oh, well, she’s always busy when she’s here, but come by. She can talk to you while she’s working.”

“Okay, cool.”

I had had a pretty bad experience with a guy at another tattoo place that almost put me off the idea completely but I did some research and found a place that came highly recommended. After browsing their artists’ portfolios, I found S—exactly what I was looking for. And as an added bonus, she was a woman—I had always wanted my first one done by a chick! Her wait was four months though, but I figured four months was nothing when it came down to something that was going to last for the rest of my life. And I dropped my $80 deposit and sealed myself in.

So I went in today for a preliminary chat. I waved around designs while she worked on a guy’s sleeve and I kept it short because I wouldn’t want my artist distracted while she was carving a permanent stain into my skin.

“So?” C says.

“Oh my God, I love her already.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she was so cool. And she has blue hair!”

But itching for something to change right now, I got my tragus pierced on a whim. The guy had a Mets cap on. It was meant to be and after signing a contract and swearing that I am over 18, I’m lying there on something that looks like a massage table while he snaps latex gloves on and tells me what he’s going to do.

“It’s going to be two parts. First I’m going to to…which isn’t that bad, but then…that part usually hurts more…then…”

It hurt more than the other piercings I’ve gotten but there’s something about pain. It feels liberating, almost.

“How was that?” he asks me, a huge needle stuck into the side of my face.

“It was…nice, actually.”

-L

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