Self-Inflicting Pain

I'm a big fan of tattoos - I love them on guys (provided that the guy isn't completely covered in them) and I love getting them. Actually, let me rephrase that. I don't enjoy getting them - really, they hurt like hell - but I love having them on my body. So far, I have three. The first two are a shamrock (which Momma Bella and I got together, and is a replica of the charm that my Grandma wears on her necklace), and an English rose and intertwines with a heart (a symbol of my time that I lived in England). I love telling people that I have tattoos because I'm really not the type of person that one would assume to have any.

My latest tattoo, which is only about two weeks old, is the saying by which I try to live my life: "Live. Laugh. Love." One of these days, I'll get around to taking a picture of it. Getting that tattoo was one of the more painful experiences that I've gone through in my life, and it made getting my other two feel like having a feather lightly caressed on my back.

I took Momma Bella with me to get my tattoo so that I would have someone there to help me through the pain and to laugh with at the craziness of voluntarily having something so painful done. She was with me for my other ones, too, so she knew the drill.

Craig, who did my tattoo, was absolutely wonderful. He's very talented, especially since I changed the design that he had made about two minutes before the appointment. After telling him where I wanted the tattoo to go - the side of my left foot - he took one look at the design and said, "Oh, that's gonna fuckin' hurt." I must have looked at him with sheer terror, because he quickly laughed and said, "I'm just kidding!" He then went on to explain that he was super tired and hadn't got much sleep the night before, so I can't say that I was too calm going into the appointment. (Of course, he was just saying that to get me riled up - it worked! - because he did a fantastic job). To add to that, another artist came up to see what I was getting and promptly said, "You're getting that on your foot? Yeah, that's gonna fuckin' hurt." I was almost in tears and Craig hadn't even started doing anything.

Well, the guys were right. The tattoo fucking hurt. Mommy Bella let me squeeze her hand the entire time and kept reminding me to breathe (sort of resembled how I imagine she'll be when I have a baby), which helped immensely, though any joke that she made really didn't have any sort of affect on me. By the end, Mommy Bella couldn't even extend her hand.

Craig was wonderful through the whole session, always asking if I was okay, if I needed a break, and trying to keep me laughing. Everytime he went close to a nerve, my leg would jerk but, in his words, he "must like [me], because [he'd] be yelling at anyone else right now." I told him that I would cry if he yelled at me.

The tattoo looks fabulous, though I'll apparently have to get it touched up quite a bit. Not looking too forward to that! It was totally worth it, though - I love it!

In a shameless bit of promotion, I got my tattoo at Sinful Inflictions in Whitby, which I would highly recommend to anyone wanting to get a tattoo. **Disclaimer - this website scares the hell out of me, but it's got all their information on it!**

Love,

Bella