On the Skin of the Willing

On the Skin of the Willing                                                            
The buzzing of a drill, the butterflies in my stomach, I don’t know if I could go through with it. It was too late to turn back now as they pulled out the 6 ft blue, padded table and placed a white cover over it then laid two small, square pillows down on top of it. By now, I’m a little embarrassed for the extra attention that I know will be given to me once I get on that table. I’m just nervously watching and waiting until it’s my turn.  Then the very nice small girl with curly, shoulder length hair says “come on over” I take a deep breath and walk into the two small swinging heart-shaped doors. I take off my shoes, apologies if my feet stink, and hop up onto the table.
I’m not as nervous now. My mind is blank. She puts a small piece of paper on my leg with the drawing that I’ve chosen, and then we go over where it’s going to be. After about a 10 min conversation between me, her and another artist that was there we decide the perfect place for it. I’m asked to get back on the table so we can begin. I brace myself for the pain. This is it! I feel a sharp pain on the lower side of my right leg but she breaks every few seconds so it’s tolerable.
Finally, I’m doing this. I usually do more for others then I do for myself, but every once in a while I can run off and do something for me. Something I’ve wanted to do for years but never did. Being a wife and a mother, I hardly do anything for myself. It is something that shows that I am unique and a part of my personality. It’s hard to explain why I’ve wanted a tattoo. Growing up I would see people with tattoos and I thought that was a really cool idea or sometimes a really bad idea depending on what they got. I’ve thought long and hard about what I wanted. I’ve decided that when I would get one it would mean something. Mine means infinite friendship for a friend I’ve had for over 15 years.
After the first ten minutes or so it isn’t all that bad. I get used to it, but I can’t really relax. The light conversation between the two artist and other customers is comforting. I think it would be worse to have complete silence except for the buzzing of the needles being used on the skin of the willing.
During a brief intermission, I sip on some ice cold water and stare around the small parlor room at all the pictures of tattoos, from the very first type of tattoos used with a small needle and a stick, to the high tech equipment of today.  As I try to ignore the dull pain in my leg, I can’t imagine how much pain that would be to get one all over your body as the pictures show. I glance up, above the mirror is a face I recognize, it is Robert Englund (Freddy Krueger); the man that would haunt my dreams from when I was a little. My big brother made me watch the movies when I was little and the sound of his voice still sends chills down my spine.
His burnt skin and knifes for fingers is all I can think about until the young girl named Beth returns. She doesn’t look like your stereotypical tattoo artist. She’s dressed in a baggy, blue sweat-shirt with her hair pulled back without a tattoo in sight. I expected to see a person covered in tattoos and piercing. She looked more like a school teacher than a tattoo artist.
She returns the electric needle to my leg. I’m still very quiet but calmer now. I know that we’re almost done. I just lay there on the table that isn’t as comfortable as it once was. Once Beth finishes, she asks me to hop down once again to look in the mirror. Right above my ankle on my right leg is a tattoo; it is an infinity symbol with a diamond in the middle. I’m asked to stand straight so my artist can back up and take a look then another artist takes a peak. They both are pleased. I climb onto the table on last time so Beth can put a bandage on it and explain how to take care of my lifelong reminder.
As I get my things, I can feel my hands finally shake with excitement.  I can not stop smiling in accomplishment. I’m so thrilled by this that I don’t even notice that my leg was bleeding until I got home to show the family.
I’m really proud of myself for finally doing it. They are so many tattoos that I’ve thought about over the years. I still have a few that I’d like to do but I’m not sure that I’ll have the nerve to go through that again anytime soon, maybe once my leg heals,  I’ll think about it.