Pain

I met a social worker on New Year's Eve who had a wrist band tattoo. I asked her about it, for Tim seems to think that the wrist tattoo I want will prevent me from getting jobs. I don't think it will, and she agreed with me. But she said what a lot of people have been telling me: that the inner wrist hurts a lot.

I don't even know what that means. Every single tattoo I have has hurt a LOT. Each one made me freak out and cry and almost hyperventilate (in my head, of course--don't want to act like a sissy at the tough tattoo shops!) and swear that the one being currently drilling into my flesh is the last one ever--that I'm swearing off them for good. With the first two, as soon as the redness and swelling passed (and I could look at the ink without feeling faint), though, I instantly thought of the next one I wanted.

With the last one, though, there was enough pain that I really meant it for at least six months. With that one, I can still remember exactly what the needle felt like going into my back. I wanted to die, die, die, and beg the artist to stop what he was doing--that a half-finished tattoo was fine with me if the pain would just STOP.

Of course, for all that, and despite my low threshold of pain, I still can't wait to get this latest one. In the grand scheme of things, I suppose an hour of excruciating pain is worth a pretty, pretty wrist decoration.