This is the happiest Christmas I can remember in recent history.
And also, it was the most epic Christmas.
Because TATTOOS HAPPENED, PEOPLE!
There were actually a lot of special, funny and very tender moments over the holidays, not the least of which was my twins shadowing my brother every waking moment.
But you guys, nothing can top this: OMG I GOT A TATTOO! With my dad and youngest brother, no less! Getting a tattoo was never on my bucket list but when my dad began toying with some design ideas, it just felt right.
This epic event happened yesterday and took over four hours between the three of us. It was an incredible bonding experience. Unforgettable. Really hoping my other brother, who was not with us, will take the plunge.
Let me say this: my brother, Danny, is a bit of an old hand at the tattoo thing; but knowing his would take the longest (being twice the size of my dad’s and mine) my DAD offered to go first. That blew my mind. And watching him handle the experience so well was so comforting. Scroll down to see his ‘AFTER’ photo.
This is my ‘BEFORE’ shot. Or rather, my ‘JUST BEGINNING’ shot. Stencil is down and away we go.
Don’t let the serene face fool you. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain but this HURT LIKE A SONOVABITCH! (Envision thousands of fiery hot blades slicing through your skin. True story.)
So now we are about half way through the 40 minutes of sadistic pain. And, yes, I’m smiling, being all zen-like.
Seriously searching for my happy place right now.
I envisioned each section being filled in with each touch of the needle, not unlike having your eyes closed in a moving vehicle (not while you’re driving, obviously) and trying to discern your location by the right and left turns. This helped distract me.
My ‘AFTER’ pic. Voilà! Do you love it? This was my dad’s own design which he created as a sort of family emblem. It has very special significance to us which is why I decided to take the leap into getting inked.
And this was my dad’s. Same size as mine but a bit lower on the back.
And here’s the pro, who sat through about 90 minutes of zap-zap-zapping.
His ‘AFTER’ shot.
And the three of us, hours later when we were able to remove the bandages and wash off our ink. We pretty much rock this look. I’m loving it!
I’ve come to the conclusion that the pain from getting tattooed is like that of birthing a baby. What I mean is that, at the time, you swear on all things holy that you will NEVER EVER do that again. But by the time the pain wears off, you convince yourself it wasn’t that bad and that maybe, MAYBE you could consider doing it again.