Wahoo, Tattoo!

Remember like, forever ago when I promised tattoo pictures? Well, I may take awhile, but I almost always keep my promises.

Okay. We started out by waiting around awhile. The tattoo guy (tattooer? tattooist?) was drawing Jeremiah's tat from scratcheroni and while I already had mine drawn out (by the art teacher at school) there was some slight altering that needed to be done. So we waited.
Then it was my turn. Let me preface this story by sharing that when I was in the second grade my mom took me to the mall to get my ears pierced. I was SO EXCITED. And nervous. Because, you know. Someone was going to PUNCH HOLES in my body. So that anticipation builds up. Got my ears pierced and we're walking through the department store and on the stairs when I turn to my mom and throw up. On the stairs. And her hand and my hand, too. I am pretty sure that all that build up made my stomach wobbly and then, you know. Puke.

Flash forward about 20 years and a little more west of Michigan. Same thing. I was SO excited/nervous/anticipating the tattoo that once he started and I realized that the pain wasn't going to kill me, all that crud went to my belly and I got wobbly. In fact, I turned white and my lips turned blue. Things started to look far away and like they were through a tunnel. Seriously, closest I've ever been to fainting. I was sweating more than Nixon on his television debate against Kennedy. Or more than Lindsey Lohan in court. There was a lot of panic and a lot of me wanting to lie down (wasn't allowed) or lean forward (wasn't allowed). Jeremiah was trying to be supportive but my superhero sense of smell was working overtime and I could smell EVERY smell and the deodorant that he was wearing was not helping me to keep the barf down.

But are you ready for this? I pulled through. No fainting. No yakking. Here I am drinking my second glass of water.  I'm all, "See? Fine. Ignore the sweat-soaked clothes and let's get this show on the road! We're burnin' daylight!"

After all that, the tattoo took about five minutes. Seriously. And THEN the guy told me that I got the tattoo in one of the most painful places but hadn't wanted me to know ahead of time and change my mind. Nice.
He also said that the LEAST painful place was the arm, where most men get tattoos...which brings us to Jeremiah. Getting tattooed. On the arm. Sissy. First you get shaved. If you are hairy. I did not get shaved. That's the guy that tattooed me. He was very sanitary. And he used more swear words than I could use, even on a good day. He put sailors to shame.
The last picture is blurry, because I didn't want to use the flash and blind tattoo guy. He works with a needle, you know. But you get the idea behind Jeremiah's tat. It is Japanese style waves with a band of music along the bottom with a drum clef.
It looks much better finished, but do I have pictures of that? No. I do not.

P.S. Jamming to the Christmas music right now.
P.P.S. If you are wondering about the pain, let me tell you. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain imaginable, I would rate this a seven. Maybe six point five. Totally do-able.
P.P.P.S. Girls, when you are getting ready to puke and you are surrounded by men it is up to you to pull your hair back. They will NOT do it for you. Just FYI.

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