My tattoo journey- Part one. 

So I promised to tell you the story of my tattoos in the last post, so tell I shall. I’ve always been captivated by tattoos since I was a teenager and watching shows like Miami Ink, LA Ink, Kat von D, and the likes of it made me want them even more. But I also didn’t want to jump into it (like flip the “catalogue” and go that’s it!) and regret later- after all, it’s going to be on me forever. 

So, as typical as it sounds, my first was my name on my right hip. My logic was that if I drowned in the sea one day and the fishes nibbled my face off, at least I would still be identifiable (didn’t think that maybe they would eat my body first haha). And, I’m narcissistic. I love my name. It’s a great name I think. If I remember right, I was 22 or 23. I have no regrets. However, it’s not very well done because the dude apparently went beyond the first layer so I actually have a couple of keloids where the thicker parts of the letters are. I didn’t have any reference because it was my first, but I remember the healing period to be excruciating and extra scabby (like how you skin your knees deep). The second artist took one look and said the guy went way in too deep (no dirty thoughts here please). 

Not that the second dude was any better to be honest. I went to him because he was featured many a times in our local paper and was kind of a like a celebrity. So high hopes I had. At that point in my life, I was dealt with blow after blow after blow. I wanted something to represent strength. Really liked the idea of a Phoenix (you know, that whole rising from the ashes thingy…), but I’m Asian. And getting a Phoenix would almost automatically put me into the category of an ah lian. I can’t quite explain this term, but it’s kind of a derogatory term, stereotyping a female as uncouth, and brash and gangster-ish. Something like that. Yeah, we Asians can’t get certain tattoos without being judged. Like if a Caucasian person got a lotus or a peony, it would be so rad, but an Asian- wham! Ah Lian or Ah Beng (the male version). 

Sorry. Back to my tattoo. So I had this brilliant idea of a diamond because diamonds are the hardest of all materials (or one of the hardest). And, a pin-up girl (to represent myself) would sit on it like a stool! And so I did lots of research to see what I liked or didn’t like and had a discussion with the artist. Right before we started, he suggested that we do it in two sessions (part one diamond, part two girl) because 1) it would be very expensive to do it all at once, 2) he was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to take the pain because of how large the completed piece would be. 

Of course I agreed. I mean, he’s the expert. Who am I to disagree with him, right? WRONG. I COULDN’T BE WRONGER (so wrong I have to use a non-existent word to amplify it) IF I TRIED. 

***** To be continued…… *****


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