OH MY GOD I LOVE HER SO MUCH. OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM SO HAPPY.
See? I toldja. 🙂
I am in love. That’s all there is to it. I am in love with my own arm. In my humble opinion – which is, at this time, admittedly not too terribly humble – Lisa did a better job with the art than the original. The eyes, for example, are fucking phenomenal. I love the living shit out of the eyes. There’s a smirky glint going on in the face that wasn’t there before. And the shading on the face and on the clothes is, quite simply, not something I thought was possible with tattoo art. The blue in the hair pops. The definition on the pants (good pants) and shoes and arm bandages are all just tremendous. For a first tat, Lisa cranked this one out of the park and made herself a big ol’ lifetime customer… because yeah, I have got to do this again.
Here’s the last time you’ll ever see my inner left arm un-Rosed:
I’ve sent a picture over to Heart Shaped Skull. Attitude of gratitude.
“No more virgin canvas,” my friend Jacob said when we started this process. He’s been my key adviser on this from the start. It was Jacob who pointed me towards Sinful Inflictions in lovely downtown Whitby Ontario, which is where he got his rather spectacular art done. I got hooked up with Lisa at my consultation a couple of months ago, and have been doing the thrill-of-dread waiting game ever since for my July 12 appointment.
Let’s cut straight to the heart of this thing: getting a tattoo hurts, Internet! Didn’t see that coming. And good fucking God, was it a turn-on. Didn’t see that coming either. Jesus I’m licking my lips right now just thinking about it; I’ve got a full flush on. Mmmmmmmm tattoo.
When Lisa was doing the outline, it hurt a lot, but I was doing a pretty good job of managing it – occasional flashes to the river of fire on Mustafar, sure, but for the most part I was just giggling and chuckling and so forth. I realized today (and should have done long, long ago) that I have a weird sense of humour about pain. That’s why I’m always cracking up when I fall over snowboarding or get hit in the head with a soccer ball: I just sort of find pain amusing. It bears elements of simplicity and focus that are quite useful.
So there I am giggling away and commenting that the pain is more irritating than painful, when she starts with the shading – and holy mother fuck, that’s a whole other level of owie. So… I started picturing going down on various people. Yeah. Some people I have gone down on, some people I would like to go down on. It became a bit of a free for all but I kept at it because it was terrifically effective.
And then she starts the colouring and the white… and there is no longer a single thing I can do to be anywhere other than that fiery maelstrom of pain. I am right in there. My entire life has turned into an old, beaten up piece of film: there are unintentional speed-ups, and film white-outs, and bad splices cutting through the center of frame and even a burn-out or two. I just lived there for about ten minutes because there was nothing else I could do. But when that was done, it was done. And I was just so goddamn happy.
OK that’s enough storytelling for one night. Gotta go buy Vitamin E.
GO GET A TATTOO, INTERNET. You’ll be glad you did.
“I don’t wanna die without any scars.”
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