This year I decided to get myself a birthday gift. I had been wanting a tattoo on my wrist
for over a year. I knew what I
wanted, it was something meaningful, but it was still a “someday” thing. The pain didn’t sound fun and forever
is a big commitment. It wasn’t
difficult to make the commitment to Mr. C. but when I can’t even chose a place
for dinner without second guessing myself, I wasn’t sure that I could choose
something to be on my body forever.
Recently I decided I wanted to go for it and knew I wanted
my tattoo before my birthday. I
asked around for some referrals, got the number of a guy who had done my
friend’s that I loved, and texted him.
Within an hour I had an appointment for Wednesday and within about 10
seconds of that I was freaking out.
I was serious but holy cow, now was actually going to do it!
I spent hours (yes, hours) searching for a font I liked and
would want to see on my wrist forever.
I was getting frustrated until I found a pin (pinterest is amazing btw)
that I loved. I copied it, printed
it out, and walked around with it taped to my wrist at home one night. Yes, I did this, and yes, Mr. C laughed
at me. I loved it though.
I told very few people because I honestly thought I might
chicken out. The day before I got
it I came home and told Mr. C that I was having second thoughts. I really wasn’t, I was just freaked
out. “What if I can’t find a job,”
I asked. He assured me that my one
coverable tattoo would not make me unemployable. I asked “what if it hurts too much and I’m just a chicken”
and he assured me that I’d be fine (I did used to have my teeth drilled with no
Novocain). Lucky he knows how I am.
Everyday after I set up the date, I’d wake up and think
“tattoo day is __ days away”. The
day of, I woke up and though “ahhhh, I’m getting a tattoo today….or running out
of the place screaming”. I told
Mr. C if I ran out that he’d have to explain whatever and pay whatever he
needed to. He laughed at me. I was serious.
I got there, my stomach in knots, and my hands shook as I
filled out the paperwork. The guy
went to make the stencil and I relaxed a bit. Then he came out and my knots returned. We walked back and I told him I was
terrified as I sat down. I’ve
learned that telling people you’re terrified in situations like that is a great
thing. Someone’s taking my blood
and I say I’m terrified – they don’t dig around in my arm much. We talked a bit and joked around as he set
everything up and then came the time to give him my arm. It was like when I’m at the dentist and
he asks me to open so he can shove the needle in my gums. Not my favorite part.
Finally, the gun turned on and we got started. It felt like I thought it would. Kind of annoying, not comfortable, but
not horrible. Thinking back now,
it doesn’t really seem that bad anyhow, definitely not “run out screaming”
uncomfortable. The needle-like
thing in my arm was what really freaked me out. At one point I started feeling dizzy, my ears
were ringing, and my vision was getting fuzzy….and then I couldn’t hear much. I had to ask him to stop so I could get
some water. I hate the feeling of passing out and I’ve done it enough that I’d
rather not do it again. I waited a
few minutes, drank some water, and felt okay. We weren’t even a third done. I felt like a moron because I’m over there almost passing
out at my little wrist tattoo and there’s this guy across the room getting a
big piece on his arm done just laying there like it’s all cool (on the way out
some girl getting another huge piece was just texting! TEXTING, like she couldn’t be bothered
to care about anything!) After
that it was all smooth sailing though.
I was surprised when he said he was done. I was just getting used to it! I looked at my wrist and loved it even
more than I thought I would, and the pain really didn’t seem to matter.
In the past year I’ve done things I didn’t want to - things
I was scared to do (many involving
needles which I’m terrified of), and through it all I knew God was with me,
people were praying for me, and I needed to just trust that it would all work
out. I can’t imagine living my
life without God being a part of it.
I don’t claim to be perfect, but my faith is a big part of my life, and I
need to spend less time worrying and more time having faith that God has a plan
for me. My tattoo was to remind me
of that, to always have faith, to always remember I’m not alone, and to
remember that I’m stronger than I think I am sometimes. I love birds, but I added the bird
because of my favorite bible verse, also about having faith:
“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or
store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than
they?”
-Matthew 6:26 (NIV)
In the end, I really, really love it. I waited a long time to be sure it was
what I wanted and I couldn’t be happier.
For me, it’s a perfect reminder of my 27th year and that with
God, I’m stronger than I think.
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