Kat von B

Ah, my fat belly. :)

Ok here's the story like I promised...
Jackie and I were feeling pretty stoked the entire morning. It was all we could think about all weekend, and as we approached the tattoo parlor, Skin Works, our excitement gradually turned to an uncomfortable nauseating one. I was relieved that she wanted to go first -- if she saw the way I reacted to needles, I'm sure it would be enough to have her running out the door. But she made it look so easy. She took it like a man. "Jackie you look so calm! Does it hurt?" .. "No, it feels kinda good."

I had hope. At least I thought I did.

The tattoo artist, whose name escapes me at the moment (thank God for business cards), told me that he'd start with a small line just so I could see how it felt. I closed my eyes and two seconds later, it was over. He asked me how it was, and I told him to go on and that it wasn't that bad. Five seconds later, I'm squeezing Jackie's hand so hard you'd think I was going into labor. Rosaline, my other roommate, had arrived and was hovering over me, with a camera, candidly snapping away at a horrible angle that would later cause me to cringe. Not only that, but my face shriveled like a dry sponge (which Ros beautifully captured on my camera), and my eyes were teary. Jay had called me before and told me not to cry. It was my goal not to. Yes, this Kat can endure an hour of pain without crying. But I swear if Jackie let go of my sweaty hands for one second I would have screamed. At some point, particularly the moment when the artist was going over the outline on my hipbone, I started to laugh hysterically. My body was literally shaking on this uncomfortable dentist-like chair. I don't know why I act inappropriately in these situations. It was so painful -- so I laughed? Haha, I might as well applaud at a funeral. Anyway, it was enough for the tattoo artist to warn me not to move. The outline was the most painful part of the process... It was the slowest 30-4o minutes of my life. Worst of all, as I looked around at the shabby parlor (why do tattoo parlors always look so "ghetto"?!) and there was nothing there to comfort me. Nothing for me to fixate my eyes on, to help me concentrate, to help me forget a needle was stabbing me multiple times on my bone and was probably bleeding profusely. There wasn't even music playing. Instead, a show about animals was showing on some boring daytime TV channel. The only sounds were the loud, obnoxious noise of the needle machine, not-so-occasional complaints from me, and Jackie laughing at my retarded expressions. The coloring portion, however, wasn't so bad. The needle didn't seem to be as intense, maybe because the speed was reduced. In a little over an hour, it was all over. It looked bright and vibrant. And a teeny bit bloody. But I instantly felt a little sexier, so I was happy.

A minute after he finished and after I stopped admiring my tat, he taped this diaper-like bandage on it that jutted out of my shirt a bit. It was an uncomfortable car ride home, but it was over. :) I have a tattoo... it still sounds weird when I say it.

But there it is .. my swallow tattoo. A swallow is supposed to represent enduring love (hence the heart<3). Swallows are known to choose one mate during their lifetime. Also, it is a symbol of always returning home because swallows always return to San Juan Capistrano after their migration. It has a few other meanings, but I like those two the best. <3