This story has been sitting in the wings for a little while.
My parents sometimes read my blog so I had to make sure they knew about this…before they read it.
I'm classy like that.
Here's why: My friend and I got tattoos.
They really hurt.
When I get nervous or afraid, I get really quiet. I block out whatever's coming until it's too late, then I only have to deal with the trauma once. It looks like I'm calm, but really, I'm just in denial.
My friend is very vocal about her fear.
In a situation like this, it's obviously me who's forced into the chair first.
[well...the chair/table. yes, this is the actual one.]
We go for a test run, no ink, in case of pain-induced wriggling leading to messed up tattoo forever.
It's not so bad. I'm happily surprised.
On with the real deal.
And for real, the pain is minimal. It's like a scratch that stings quite a lot.
My friend is hovering over me, watching nervously.
Friend: Does it hurt?
Me: It's not that bad.
Friend: Honestly? Honestly chap. Tell me.
Me: No really! It's not that bad. It does hurt. But not that much.
5 minutes pass.
Friend: How about now?
Me: Still ok.
Friend: Out of 10?
Me: Um…a 4?
Friend: A 4?!? Is that it?
Ya, that's it.
Tattoo is on my arm, by the way. She started at my wrist, and is working down, towards my elbow. About 10 minutes in, we're already halfway through. But as my skin is getting softer, the pain has been increasing…gradually. I hadn't realised, but by now I had completely stopped taking part in the the jovial conversation.
Friend: Chap, how is it?
Friend: You're looking a bit green.
Me: 0.0 …really?
Friend: Yeah. Does it hurt? [whispering] Is it a 10?
At this point, the answer is, "HOLY @!$%^*()%@, YYYYYEEESSS!!!!!!!!!"
And I know if I open my mouth to say anything, this is what will come out.
But if I say that, my friend won't sit down and get her tattoo done!
I have to make her believe that it doesn't hurt.
Especially because I know hers will hurt more than mine - on the inside of her upper arm.
I manage to squeeze out a strained:
Me: Creeping to a 6...
I spend the final 10 minutes in silence, trying to look normal, repeating a calming mantra to myself:
Then finally, it was over.
Breathe out. Happy, bright, shiny tattoo :D
My friend lies down in the chair/table.
Still nervous, but foolishly calmed by my lies.
The tattooing begins.
In an instant, my friends' face contorts into a silent scream - mouth as wide as I've ever seen, eyes as big as I've ever seen. But she's so terrified to move or breathe in case of messing it up...
...til all of a sudden:
Friend: IT'S A TEN!!!! @!$^*()% CHAP YOU LIED, IT'S A TEN, IT'S A TEN!!!!