So I wanted to get a tattoo to commemorate running my first 100...which was 6 months ago. You can tell I was really dragging my feet. I spent a long time thinking about what to get, asking people where I should go to get it, driving by the tattoo place and being too chicken to go in and talk to anyone, etc. Finally I accumulated enough gumption to step foot in Big Daddy Cadillac's on Mass St. After looking through the artists' portfolios, I settled on Steven.
Steven came out, sat down with me and sketched up my idea. He was pretty quiet, which led me to believe that he hated me for being a dumb tattoo newbie, or something along those lines. He asked me when I wanted to get it done: "Tomorrow?" he asked. Panic set in. "Uhhhh, no, I have to go out of town." I really did have to go out of town to crew at Rockin' K. Eventually we settled on Tuesday of the next week. After I set up the appointment and paid my deposit, I turned to Steven and said, "I'll see you Tuesday then?" He gave me a nod. Nothing else. Maybe a mumble. Yeah, I was pretty sure he hated me.
Leading up to Tuesday, I worried a lot about how big the tattoo would end up being, what it would look like, etc. All I had seen was a rough sketch Steven put together on the spot. I had daymares of it turning into this giant monstrous thing I would regret for the rest of my life. After sitting in the waiting room for a while, listening to a gaggle of sorority girls conspiring over which tattoos they wanted to get that very day, Steven had me follow him to his area? room? office?
I stood awkwardly as Steven cleaned the chair I would be sitting in and covered it in plastic wrap. I kept shuffling around as he rotated it this way and that. Eventually I sat down, took off my shoe and sock and after several misunderstandings realized that Steven wanted me to rotate my body so that I was resting on my hip. Oh, I suppose that DOES make it easier to access the outside of my ankle. We finally started talking as he prepared everything, which involved covering a lot things in plastic. Ink is messy I guess!
When Steven placed the ink template of what he'd drawn up on my ankle, I finally started to relax. It was bigger than I imagined wanting my tattoo to be, but after seeing it, I realized it was the perfect size. It was smooth sailing from here. Relatively. Steven was actually pretty cool once I started talking to him. Plus, his "office" was full of fantasy books and figurines. A fellow nerd!
The process was more painful than I thought it would be. I struggled to keep my leg from quivering and was afraid I would make him mess up the tattoo, but all went well. The outline hurt the most. I suppose it has something to do with the needle used for outlining. Surprisingly, the filling was much more manageable.
So in conclusion, I'm very happy with my new artwork. On the topic of regret, well I like the tattoo, and I can't see myself every saying, "Self, running 100 miles is super lame. Why would you ever want to remember that?" So there you go.