After a couple of years of bothering them about it, I finally got the permission from my parents to get a tattoo. Now, I know what you're thinking: what do you mean permission? I mean yeah I guess I'm an adult (sort of) but I still didn't want to put anything on my body that they would hate. Anyway, finally the day had come and my friend and I made the journey into London to meet with my tattoo artist. The following is a play-by-play of what went down last Tuesday.
I wake from my slumber and I'm already panicking. I immediately think about turning off my alarm, snuggling back into my pillows, and "accidentally" sleeping through my appointment, but I know I'll regret doing that so I slither out of bed.
After texting my friend to make sure she got up we meet outside and go to the train station. We begin the almost hour and a half journey to White Chapel. It's also rush hour so things are getting delayed left and right. #publictransportation
We arrive in White Chapel after a riveting train journey (rip to the girl who dropped all of her Reese's Pieces on the train). We slither past the tattoo shop and I start panicking again. This is when I decide I need to eat something (I, of course, had skipped breakfast so at this point I had starving) so we go to McDonald's and I cry into an egg McMuffin.
The appointment begins and the design process begins. Since I'm about to put this design on my body FOREVER I need it to be perfect and I honestly made the poor guy re-do it about ten times before I gave him the go-ahead.
I'm finally ready to have a needle with ink repeatedly put in my arm. I'm really worried I'll be a little b*tch about it and cry, but then I think about the guy next to getting his arm filled in and I decide I need to cool it. Approximately two seconds later the buzzing begins and the tattooing session has begun and it's nowhere near as painful as I thought, really my arm just feels like it's burning.
I take a small break to go look in the mirror so I can decide how much shading I want. I also take this time to breathe a little since I was holding my breath a considerable amount for the past 15 minutes.
It's done and I'm screaming.
Overall, it was such a great experience and I'm so happy that I finally got my tattoo! Now, let the healing process begin.