My partner got his first tattoo yesterday.He got a silhouette of a flying Peter Pan on his back, in honor of his late father who sorta kinda got famous for the role when he was in grade school. At least that’s how he says it, I guess. Apart from that, I think the design does suit him well with his child-like personality, which I love, and maybe love about him since I lost mine at around my early twenties.
I have a lot of tattoos myself, I started getting myself inked since college and stopped and started every couple of years then on. I have a total of nine tattoos right now, going on ten. I didn’t ask my partner to get one, he just mentioned it out the blue last weekend and then boom, a week later, we were sitting in a friend’s house wiring for him to get over himself and get it started.
He asked all these questions about how painful it was compared to other things and such, proving well enough that he was really nervous. Forty five minutes later, the inking began. From his facial expression and the way he squeezed my hand purple throughout the whole 45 minutes of it, he was in a lot of pain. Or I say his tolerance for it was no where from mine when it came to skin art, for sure.
After it was all done, I asked him if the pain was all he psyched himself up before the session. He said it wasn’t really as bad as he had expected after all. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but he did say he wanted to get in a few additions to the tattoo hopefully before my artist friend leaves for the Middle East by mid-September.
I will be getting another tattoo soon, really soon, within the week since, again, I want to take advantage of the time that my artist is still here locally. I’ve always told myself that I don’t want to absolutely fill my body with tattoos but then with these bigger pieces I’m getting done on my skin, I think I’ll run out of space a couple or more tattoos on the line.
Until then, hopefully I can share more about the pain later in the week. And pictures of course.