Category: Tattoos

This past Tuesday I went to finish up the colouring on a tattoo that I had. I had it outlined last year October so it had been a long wait for me and I was very excited to finally finish it up. It was a chrysanthemum and a couple of leaves on the backside of my arm; I went to the studio earlier this year with intentions of finishing it but I just ended up getting another chrysanthemum on the front of my arm. The last sit was extremely easy; my chrysanthemum was outlined and coloured all within a session with just one break in-between. There was definitely a lot more area to cover this sitting though. Some space on the back of my arm had already been filled in, but this chrysanthemum was a lot larger and there was work to be done right by my shoulder, all the way down and onto my elbow. I wasn’t too worried about the pain this time around since I’ve already had the outline in and that’s usually one of the most painful parts. The absolute most painful part of getting a tattoo so far, at least in my experience, is when single needles are used for really fine lines or details. But for colouring, the needles cover a larger surface area so the impact and the pain is less concentrated. It definitely still is a very painful experience but I knew it was bearable.

And it was. I actually didn’t have much of an issue with the entire backside of my arm. Even when the needles were going over my elbow, I handled it well. Of course, it was extremely painful on some parts of the elbow but there were other parts where I felt like I didn’t feel any pain at all. I was fiddling on my phone and I had pretty interesting chats with the artist, Travis, about all sorts of topics from nuclear bombs to hannya masks.

What really broke me were the touchups on my older tattoos that Travis wanted to do afterwards. There are times that some colour will get lost when a tattoo has fully healed due to the scabbing process so there were some small patches of missing colour that he wanted to fill in. He said that there wasn’t much work left, maybe around half an hour or an hour at most. We were already three hours in and I was a little too stressed out at that point but reluctantly, I took it on. He prepared the other colours and we got started. A few minutes in, I found myself wincing. It surprised me because it was the same area that was really easy to sit the last time around. But I took it. A few minutes longer, my body started to shake. Travis told me that if I kept moving that it would take much longer so I tried hard to focus or tune out or whatever I was doing. The needle went right on and I just shook again. It didn’t seem like I had any sort of control over my body. When he looked at me with a disapproving look I told him I couldn’t help it and we should probably just leave what was left for next time. He told me I was psyching myself out and that because we were so close to the end, I was convincing myself I couldn’t take it anymore. “How many years do you think I’ve been doing this for?” His rhetorical question really convinced me that he was right; it was all in my head and I was kidding myself. He told me to toughen up and once more, the needle went on and this time I writhed. Hard. My backside just came off bed. He started scolding me again but before he finished his sentence, it was like all the tears that I could possibly produce in that instant just came down my face and soaked the disposable sheet under me. After he finished his sentence, he didn’t say anything more and I knew he was done with me when he started wiping me down. I just waited for him and the tears continued flowing. I was embarrassed and felt extremely guilty because his paints were going to waste. I felt weak and small.

Travis was quiet for a bit and he didn’t speak until he was bandaging me up. He apologized to me for pushing me too hard. “I really like to push people.” He said it helps people get to the end but he also admit that sometimes he makes a mistake with understand what certain people’s limits are. I felt a little better about feeling small and I tried to tell him that I was okay by my voice kept breaking. I still felt embarrassed though. I mean, mentally I was just fine but it was like I had no control over what my body was doing.

I think what happened was that my body had simply run out of adrenaline. Even though I was only around three and a half hours in, it was definitely the most area I’ve handled in one sitting. It felt like after a certain point, the degree of pain just shot up the scale in an instant. It was indescribable and the worst kind of pain I’ve ever experienced. It could have been a number of other things as well. I usually pop in a couple of extra-strength tylenol tabs and maybe one during the break but I had forgotten them at home and we were running late so I didn’t have time to drop in at a pharmacy. I also hadn’t been getting much sleep and didn’t have much to have to eat that morning. Additionally, we usually only take one break but we took three that session. Maybe it’s a little bit like running; once you stop, it’s hard to finish the race without stopping again and the more you stop, it gets exponentially worse.

Whatever happened, I cried. I don’t ever think of myself as a pansy or a quitter but it happened to me. I accept that everyone has a limit and I guess I have an idea of what mine is now. I’ll be waiting until February to extend my sleeve and complete my touchups.

 

Life has been pretty different after being all inked up. So far I just have a sleeve; it’s not like I have a full body suit or anything… yet. But people who meet me post-tattoo already treat me so differently from those before any of this — that’s the most obvious change. As I mentioned in a previous post, even before my tattoos, I find myself being the person that people stop to ask for directions or the time, etc. Maybe I look non-threatening and friendly or something but I’d help someone out and that would be that. If I had to make an assumption before getting any tattoos, I would have thought that getting inked up would make me look unapproachable and maybe intimidating enough for people not to approach me. But it’s the opposite thing that’s happening — more strangers will speak to me and I end up having more conversations with people I don’t know on a daily basis. Let me be clear — these changes didn’t really start with my first couple of pieces. I started with one on my back and then another on my shoulder but as soon as it grew down and past my elbow, I really started experiencing different ways people were treating me.

People often use my tattoos as a starting point of conversation or to keep the conversation going when they run out of things to talk about when they first meet me. It’s become embedded into almost all my interactions when meeting someone new. Sometimes it’s tiring because I always get the same questions, including what the meaning is behind them, whether it hurt, or simply just getting a compliment on them. (I’ll answer some FAQs at the end of so you don’t have to ask me.) I’ve definitely become jaded from getting compliments. I have a set of automatic responses when people ask or compliment me for my tattoos. Sometimes I feel like a robot, saying the same pre-programmed messaged over and over and over again.

The rate that I get hit on definitely has shot up. You have no idea how many times guys tell me that they came over from across the street just to tell me how cool my tattoos look and then proceed to have a conversation with me. I feel like when some desperate guys see me now, they don’t see a girl; they see an Asian girl with tattoos — how exotic, she must be wild! Ugh. Please stop fetishizing me. And it’s strange because at the same time, I’ve have been told a few times that people are shy to approach me; new friends tell me they think I look intimidating, and they’d expect me to be cold and mean when they first see me. The crazy nails don’t help. But once people spend some time talking to me, they realize I’m just a tough-looking dork.

People often touch me now, which is very disconcerting. “Wow, your tattoo is amazing!”… and in the same second, I’ll feel two hands gripping me and someone inspecting me like they’re inspecting for mold on a piece of fruit. I guess this is how pregnant people feel… except they’d be watermelons or something.

I find that the more and more tattoos I get, people start paying less attention to the individual pieces and start looking at me and my tattoos as a whole. People will see me for a split second, they see the colours and the line work and say “Wow, cool tattoos!” and then “What are they?” before the next second ends. It’s not a bad thing — it’s not like I mind looking cool simply for having a lot of tattoos. It’s just interesting to experience the general reactions/impression towards them as I’m fairly new to this. Not used to people staring at my in more conservative cities though… I wonder how different people will treat me when I have tattoos all over my arms and legs…

There have been a couple of other personal changes in my life that really took me by surprise. I definitely have a higher pain tolerance now. For those of you who don’t know, I broke my ankle when someone tried to mug me when I was travelling in Bali. People tell me that it might have been the adrenaline, but it didn’t even compare to getting a tattoo. Getting a tattoo is like a searing, in-the-gut pain and over several hours at that. If I had to describe it, it’s like getting cut with a dull, hot knife, sometimes in the most tender areas of the body. Most times when I get myself hurt, it’s quick and simply a surface wound. Now I find myself shrugging off pain.

I’ve also changed up my wardrobe. I’d say I’m wearing a sweater 90% of the time now. I keep my tattoos covered up, out of the sun to keep them from fading and to make sure the colours stay vibrant. Also, I don’t think my parents know that I have a sleeve yet (unless they stalk my Instagram) so I’m delaying the time in which I have to have that conversation with them. I think I’m doing pretty well so far. I used to think I had a pretty bad sweater addiction but now it’s pretty ridiculous. I’ve been told it seems pretty silly to get tattoos only to cover them up all the time but whatever — they’re more for me than they are for anyone else. When I’m not wearing a sweater, I find I have to do a lot more color-coordinating now. My tattoos are very colourful. And it’s not like I wore colorful clothing before but even now when I wear something that isn’t black, white or grey, I have to be careful because they might clash with the colours on my arm. I also have to take into consideration the cut of the clothes so it frames my tattoo well. For example, off-shoulder dresses only look good on me if it’s on the shoulder of my bare arm.

I definitely have a different understanding of tattoos now. I think it’s hard for those who don’t have any to wrap their heads around the idea of getting a tattoo simply because it looks cool or it’s just something you want on your body. To be honest, for people to assume my tattoos to have a specific meaning is pretty irritating. “So what’s the meaning behind it?” Not every tattoo needs to have a meaning, guys. There also seems to be an existing mental template of what a tattoo is supposed to be which I don’t get. People can’t seem to understand why I have a faceless zebra but they can understand when others have koi fish, feathers and owls, etc. Which leads to my next point… now, I definitely judge other people’s tattoos… a lot. Whether it’s about the content, the line work or the color, my eyes are always peeled on what other people have and I’m constantly forming ideas of what I like and what I don’t like for future reference. I’m not so fond of quotes, pop culture, or the stereotypical tattoos. I have a huge appreciation for animals and colour-work though.

Anyways… those are my inklings on ink. We’ll see what life brings me when I’m fully tatted up.

Here are some questions people always ask me:

“Did it hurt?”

Hell yeah it hurt. It is the second most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. The most painful was getting stitches removed.

“Do they have a meaning?”

I don’t know why but this question tires me out. But anyways, I’ll answer it again. My tattoos are more references than meanings for me. I don’t like to tell people the origin of the images until I reach a level of comfort with them.

Where did you get it done?

I don’t like to share my artist with just anyone but if you PM me and try asking, I’ll probably tell you.

“Are you going to get a full sleeve?”

I’d love to get my tattoos past my wrists and onto my hands but I think it will be a long while before I do that. I’ve managed to hide my tattoos from my parents for over two years now and I’m still doing it pretty well. I don’t think my parents would be overly upset about it or anything; I just don’t want to have that conversation with them. I also don’t think the professional workplace is ready for that either so until I land a steady career, I’ll be putting it off.

“Are you addicted or something?”

I don’t think I’m addicted to tattoos. I’ve always really liked the look of people all inked up and it’s only recently that I’ve simply decided to adopt the look. I am definitely not addicted to the pain; the pain is something I have to mentally prepare and force myself to go through.

“But Japanese onsen…”

Yeah, it sucks but that’s life, right?