Twenty days ago I fulfilled a pretty major desire to get another tattoo to commemorate my transition to being a full time writer. I had wanted to get it once I published my first book, but I’m pretty much the biggest pansy in the world when it comes to pain so I kept putting it off. With that book being set in Dublin, when we moved here I thought it’d be symbolic to get the tattoo done here so I started researching tattoo studios and narrowed it down to two. I visited the first a couple of months back and didn’t get a great vibe from the receptionist who couldn’t really tell me which artist would be my best option and who tried to steer me away from the person whose work I’d admired online (and who did one of my friend’s tattoos). I eventually went to the other studio after more word-of-mouth recommendations and got really good vibes from everyone I interacted with. I booked my appointment and the next week went in to have my tattoo done.
During the tattoo, it hurt, but not as much as I thought it would. There was really only one spot that was truly painful and while I sweated like a water buffalo and my heart raced like I’d just run a marathon, I never passed out. I just kept doing some anti-anxiety breathing exercises I know and kept drinking ice cold water. Before I knew it, I was done and quite thrilled with how it turned out, especially since the artist did it entirely free-hand.