PART FOUR: The Dragon Tattoo
So this tattoo came about because my favorite (and only local) tattoo guy was getting married. He messaged me asking if I happened to want a tattoo that we could barter for. His fiance wanted ‘candy bouquets’ for their upcoming wedding and he didn’t know anyone who could make them.
I wasn’t hankering for a tattoo… but I’ve always wanted to have plenty, so I said SURE! I worked on the candy bouquets and I think I did a pretty good job for it being something I just kind of created out of my brain.
I also kept an eye out for tattoos that I might like. I asked my husband and he loves dragons and we went back and forth on what type of dragon or tattoo placement that I might get.
I was still hardcore into my P!nk phase from my last tattoo story and although I had gotten through the worst of the trauma-recovery shit that I had to go through… I still very much loved her, respected her and she still very much just screamed “strength” to me.
I was at my thinnest in a long time and was loving my legs at the moment (and my husband was really liking them, too) ;) and I felt strong, powerful and all that... most of the time, anyway. I was teaching Zumba classes and branching out into other areas of fitness, so I guess the placement was also in part because I wasn't hating my body all the time.
I ended up getting a dragon tattoo on my thigh.
And yet another tattoo that didn’t get quite finished at the first go round… and that I never bothered to fill in later. While I was there getting it, well, it was painful. A LOT of solid black that had gotten pretty damn painful and bloody by the time we stopped for the day. Neither of us noticed that there was one small area that still needed to be filled in, but I was DONE at that point anyway. My leg was on FIRE and I was ready for a break.
When I posted a photo of it later, my tattoo guy messaged me and noted that he’d not filled in that spot. We both just figured that I’d come in some day and he’d fix it up.
Of course I didn’t go back again, because I apparently suck at that type of thing. It would be about 5 years before I got another tattoo, and by that time, I didn’t care about the small not-filled-in spot.
Anyway, that’s another story.
Other posts of mine that you may be interested in:
My Real Life Stories:
My First Tattoo (and other stupid decisions)
The Christmas that Almost Wasn’t (Broke Ass Parenting Win)
Living the Storm (a small story from our life on a sailboat)
For the Love of Tulips (My Most Popular Fiction/Writing Challenge Thus Far.)