(please put up with my tattoo conversations: I'm obnoxiously proud of it)
So the ex-Catholic school teacher showed me her new tattoo today. It's the word "Grace" written in beautiful script. I remember talking to her when I got my tattoo and she said something that really resonated with me. "it's going to sound really bad," she started, "but you really learn to love the needle."
I can totally understand that now.
I never understood up until I got my own exactly why people tattooed themselves until they looked like a circus-show freak. Or, for that matter, people who were into sado-masochism. Now I understand the fascination with it.
You see, the needle hurts, not enough to make you yell but it hurts for a long time (in my case, an hour and a half). Your body releases endorphins as a result to counteract the pain. In case you don't know this, endorphins are the Party Animal of the hormone world. They give you that nice rush you get on a roller coaster, or the sudden urge to have wild, crazy monkey sex after a brush with death. Imagine that your endorphins are constantly being released starting 15 minutes or so after the tattooing starts.
I was on an endorphin high for an entire day. You have no idea how distracting that is.
When they say tattoos are addictive, that statement isn't figurative. Tattoos are literally addictive, as in I went through endorphin withdrawal. I don't know if my husband Chris could stand me for about 3 days afterwards: I was one crabby human being. That being said, I still can't wait to get my next one. I've told myself I have to wait at least 6 months, to be sure it isn't withdrawal speaking.
6 months.....ok, I suppose 4 would still work.......maybe a couple of months. At least until this one heals. Or at least maybe on a spot not near my currently healing tattoo. That would work. Damn.