Anticipation
Time,
almost at a standstill, passes with a feeling of eternity. The moon is bright
and the stars are unlike anything I’ve seen before. The smell of freshly cut
grass continues to linger in the air, as the sound of a fresh water river flows
just beyond the trees. Excitement surges through my body as I count the passing
seconds. Ten, nine, eight…three, two, one! The time – 12:01 am. I am official
an adult. I am able to vote and purchase cigarettes, legally. I can enlist into
the Army, Navy, or Airforce, I won’t, but I could. I can marry; although, I don’t
think I’m the marrying type of person. I can now express who I am and adorn myself
with beautiful treasures depicting the soul I see within myself.
I
can feel my body. The excitement running through every vein in my body. A smile
which only grows across my face as we approach our final destination. The
giddiness which encompasses my every move, is almost unbearable. As the truck
pulls in front of our destination, my brain begins to jump time and space.
Filling with questions, questions I thought I had answers to. Where? What? How
much? It doesn’t matter. It will be as fabulous and creative as me.
Waiting
to be called back, my sister, dad and I browse through the hundreds of pages
hanging on the wall. There are so many designs. Depictions of religious icons,
flowers, fairies, gambling, animals fill the pages. Some images are shaped for
different parts of the body. Horse shaped fits around a belly-button. I would
never – my body, insulated for the cold Wisconsin winters – would swallow the
image never to be seen again. Other shapes form an arch in order to fit the
upper arm, leaving the shoulder untouched. I now know that mine will be on my
back. Someplace that can be hidden, if needed, but also seen.
Dad
falls in love a small red rose. That’s great. I love flowers. Roses are not my
favorite but I love how they symbolize love, passion, and respect. But I don’t
want just a rose. I want to make the rose stand apart. I need something
surrounding the black. Tribal! Yes, that’s what it needs. But nothing I’ve seen
is like the image in my head. It is all too small, I need something that
contours with my body, something only I will have.
Standing
with my back towards the artist, I can feel the marker glide across my skin,
creating an image which flows with the natural curves of my body. Once he
finishes, I look in the mirror and instantly fall in love. The rose radiating
beauty from the tribal vines which escape it. I agree, Dad agrees, and Sissie
agrees. It’s time.
I
straddle the chair which I will become personal with for the next three hours.
But I am too short and my legs dandle off the sides. Before the artist starts,
the weight of my beautifully thick legs cause the sensation of pins and needles
in each foot. So my artist, dad, and sister stack magazines under my feet until
the pressure from is released and my feet feel as if they are on solid ground.
The
artist soon takes his position and I hear the sound of the machine buzzing. My
heart rate instantly rises and my face becomes flush with anticipation. He says
he is about to start and to be as still as possible for the outline. With so
much excitement, I think that strapping me down to a table would be beneficial.
The
needle punctures my skin and the excitement is gone. OH HOLLY HELL! What did I
get myself into? He makes small passes, tracing the rose stencil on my back.
Every pass becomes more painful as the feeling of him tearing through my skin
continues. I can feel the heat in my wounded flesh as he makes a second pass
through the freshly broken skin. My sister and dad make a hushed comment about
the blood droplets forming on my back. I thought about quitting and walking
around with a half-finished tattoo; but, I could not live with the mockery from
my family. So I sit tall and proud, hoping to mask the pain I feel surging
through me.
Soon
the outline is finished and he begins the shading. I like shading. The pack of
needles feels like a scratch in comparison to the outline. Once the adrenaline wears
away, my body calms down and he is able to complete my first tattoo with no
hesitation. As I glare into the mirror at my new addition, the memory of pain dissipates
and I think about what my next tattoo should be.
