I got a tattoo at the weekend. Wasn’t my first, won’t be my last.
Yeah, I know, I’m cool.
But, you know what’s weird? The first thing that anyone who doesn’t have a tattoo asks is ‘Did it hurt?’.
Did it hurt? Hmm, let’s see: I allowed someone to draw under my skin with a motorised needle that jabs me in the flesh around 130 times a second, for an hour and a half. A process that left my skin raw and bleeding.
Did it hurt? Nope, didn’t feel anything.
Yeah, I know, I’m being mean, but it is kind of a stupid question.
Actually, to tell you the truth, it doesn’t hurt all that much. That isn’t me being all manly and tough. Believe me, some places hurt like getting slapped in the nuts with a staple gun. I have a tattoo on my chest that I had done last year that hurt so much, I felt sure the tattoo guy was actually carving his initials into my lungs. But some places just, I don’t know, hurt less. They still hurt, but as you’ve, not only volunteered for the pain, but actively paid for it, you can ignore it to a certain degree. You don’t really have much choice.
Well, you can ignore the pain for so long, then they hit your spine, and you have to hold in the girlish squeals of shock and agony as your vertebrae are set to vibrate.
Why am I telling you this? I hear you ask.
And the answer is "Err…I dunno".
Just seemed like something to tell you.
See, I don’t lead a rock and roll lifestyle, despite what you may believe, or may have read in the papers (that story about me being found outside Kylie’s hotel window with a plastic bin liner full of old shoes and a tub of marmite was blown way out of proportion), so things like getting a tattoo are a bit of a change and I like sharing my experiences with you lucky, lucky people.
Oh, and if you don’t have one and are contemplating getting one, here are my tips on what to do:
2. No, seriously, don’t
Well, the simple reason is that they’re addictive. I know, sounds mental. How can allowing someone to jab at you with a vibrating spikey torture device be addictive? Right?
Well, trust me, they are.
I didn’t want any. None. As far as I was concerned anyone who got a tattoo was not only a retard, but also a fucktard.
Then, one day far too long ago to contemplate, my then girlfriend decided that she wanted one and she asked if I’d get one too, just so she didn’t have to get one on her own. I seriously didn’t want one, but agreed because I was socially retarded back then and didn’t want to say no.
We go. I get a small chinese symbol (which means dragon, or truth, or cheese or something) and she gets a paw print (I know, cool huh?). I actually quite liked it, but that was it. No more. I was done.
Well, it’s now *cough* years later and I have several. Why? Because they’re addictive, numbnuts, weren’t you paying attention earlier!?
You want to know what my new one is now, don’t you?
That’s the second question anyone asks: Can I see it?
And the answer is, nope, because it’s far, far too geeky to share here. Also, I can’t get it to upload properly without being fucking enormous, which is probably for the best.