My First Tattoo
I’ve FINALLY got it done… something that I’ve been thinking and day dreaming about for, hmmm, the past nine years or so.
Things became serious when the daughter decided she’d like to get one at the same time as me, kind of a mother-daughter bonding thing.
In the end it took us four years… yah, I know, quick workers right!
There are reasons for the drawn out time, a lot of them out of our control.
The most obvious a wee nuisance called Covid 19 and its ensuing pandemic. Then we’ve had lock downs, limited movements, fear, having to book, and long wait times. The least obvious - competing schedules, work commitments, finding the right tattooist, confirming image, location of said image, having to book, and rescheduling a few times.
Having to be organised and knowing what our schedules would be a significant amount of time ahead was a bit of a drama, for us anyway. Casual work, irregular rosters, made it a challenge. With booking in to somewhere, initially the wait time was months, then weeks, then we reached a stage where it was “fuck it, lock it in”, we’re just gonna have to do it or it’s never going to happen.
We knew the image we wanted to have permanently inked on us. With that whole mother-daughter bonding thing came the matchy, matchy. Of course our image holds significant meaning to both of us, not so much as the same meaning for each of us but certainly unique and specific to that image.
That was the relatively easy part.
The agonising part came with choosing who the tattooist would be.
If you’re anything like me there is much researching on Instagram, Pintrest, and the good old Google image search. Stalking tattoo artists whose style was similar to the image, who could produce a quality picture, and if we were lucky who revealed a bit about themselves as a person was a bonus.
Some tattooist’s required an email essay on what you wanted done and what your artistic expectation was, followed by a six to eight month booking wait - more power to them and a testament to their creative and artistic talent. Some had closed their businesses, some didn’t acknowledge messages sent, some didn’t return voicemails, some were rude, some obviously not interested, and some tried really hard to be accommodating but it just wasn’t do-able. By the time we’d reached the “fuck it, lock it in” stage, I don’t know whether it was sheer dumb luck, divine intervention, fate, whatever your belief system is on good things happening, but that’s what ended up happening for us.
I chose a tattoo shop closest to us that had active social media accounts. On the “fuck it, lock it in” day, I ended up jumping in my ute and doing an unbooked walk in to find out what I was getting us into, more so to make sure I wasn’t making a mistake for the daughter. She’ll be wearing her ink a lot longer than me and probably getting way more than me, so it was important I felt comfortable where we were going for our first one.
The tattoo shop was nothing flash, and I didn’t mind that. I don’t need to be impressed with glittering lights, modern decor and trendy music. It was basic, real, clean, straightforward, and I guess honest. Yeah, that’s the word I like to describe it, honest. There was no bullshit to the place, it was functional, served its purpose, and what you saw was what you got, much like the staff.
I showed the image to the lady at the counter and she straight away knew who was best to do it. There was a bit of to’ing and fro’ing between a disembodied voice somewhere out the back that I couldn’t see or pinpoint but that I could hear working on someone, and her acting as a go-between with me at the front counter.
The daughter and I had agreed on placing it on our inner foot, below the ankle bone, towards the back of the heel. At one point in our discussion I was standing at the counter with my foot balanced on it holding the pic in the spot it was to be placed, yay for natural flexibility. In the end it was agreed it was do-able, a deposit paid and a date locked in. There was a two week wait which worked out perfectly, just a few days after the daughter’s birthday.
The text to reschedule was unexpected, but then so were the circumstances, a death in the family and funeral. The selfish part of me was bummed purely because we were at the “fuck it, lock it in” stage, but I wouldn’t wish grief on anyone. Sympathies were passed along, and they were genuine. The booking was pushed back one week.
The next text to reschedule was expected, a snap three day lockdown. I think we’ve reached the stage in the pandemic where we’ve just learned to go with the flow on these things now. It was only a one week delay, it was still going to happen and really in the grand scheme of things what’s one more week.
I wasn’t nervous until the morning we were on our way. Not that it’s a good mindset to enter into having your first tattoo, but I did say to myself on multiple occassions, “If it’s bad I can always have it lasered off”.
Like any good visitor I stopped on the way in and bought doughnuts, Krispy Kreme ones. Damned if I wasn’t going to continue to be the sweetie, nice lady, person that I usually am. We arrived and were waiting in the main area when the hard core negotiating started. I wanted small and discrete, the daughter wanted it a bit larger. The gentleman explained why it needed to be bigger still, for both of us, and still we negotiated. In the end reason won, the guy knew what he was on about, we were clueless, and at some point you need to be all in or get out. Trust can be such a bitch to hand over to someone not really known but we’d been waiting for so long, we had been through so many things to get to this point, and we were here. That’s when we just gave ourselves over to our tattooist Tim, put our trust in him, his experience, and his knowledge.
We were not disappointed!
Of course the daughter strongly recommended I go first, basically she manhandled me onto the table. Yes, she openly said it was so I wouldn’t back out, not that I would have I will add in my defence. Once I commit and I have food gifts to hand over, I am all in.
Did it hurt, yes, some parts more than others.
Did it hurt enough to cry, no.
Did I reflexively kick out when trigger points were drawn over, yes, and I apologised for having no control over that.
Did I suck in air hard, yes, a few times.
Did I need to hold someone’s hand, no.
Did I talk through it, on and off it was a nice distraction.
Do I regret it, not at all.
Do I love it, yes.
Will I get more, hell yes.
As I said we put our trust in Tim and he delivered on so many level, more than I could have hoped for.
Tim elevated our whole experience from “just getting a tattoo” to something incredibly special, unique, and I will even add he made it quite an emotional and moving experience for us.
He knew from the beginning it was our first time and we were a little nervous, but talk about getting into your head and creating a conversational flow where you felt safe, you dropped your guard, relaxed as much as you could, and knew you were in the right hands. I truly do believe it was Tim’s conversation that made our first tattoo experience truly special.
The conversation flowed from what sensations to expect in certain areas of the needling, taking breathers to pause and clean, to Tim opening up about his life experiences, the good, the ugly, the why’s and the why not’s.
We did the same.
I found it an incredibly intimate, vulnerable, safe, experience even though we were in a full and busy back of shop area of the tattoo studio. It was like we were in a bubble sharing this moment, and it was really, really, nice.
It is coming up to two weeks now since then and it has become a memory. One that won’t be forgotten or dimmed over time because it was a first and it was given such a level of respect as a first.
I completely hold Tim responsible for creating that for us.
To have such a professional and experienced tattooist recognise the significance in getting your first tattoo, and holding that to almost a sacred level, was mind blowing. Hearing his side of being the one to tattoo a first timer explained made us feel special for choosing him, and how cool is that!
He is completely correct in saying we will never forget him, and that we are forever marked by him. He is now a part of our life and our life experience.
Well, read me going all hippy and shit will ya!
So, my first tattoo experience has probably ruined me for all future ones and has set the bar so fucking high. Or maybe I am doomed to book in with Tim for as long as he will see me, to push me to trust his wisdom and experience, while I continue to grow my phone file called “Tattoo Inspo” full of images grabbed from all over the webs - admit it, we’ve all got one. Maybe my ideas might push his artistic boundaries too, or he might say nope, I don’t know.
I’m not someone who trusts easily, I’m not particularly arty to be able to draw an image I’d like, and the thought of having a permanent marking on my body that may make me unhappy is scary… but what if it’s beautiful, and what if it’s perfect, and I love it?
Hmmm, something to ponder... I’ll keep you in the loop.
Deb xox
