Monday.
The day of eternal start-overs. Monday was the day I committed to a change I thought I would never make. At one time, I saw change as the enemy. I resisted, fought against and rather loathed change. It took a while, but I now realize change does not have to be the big bad monster I once thought. It is necessary to evolve and grow. Overtime, I have started to embraced change, seek it out, welcome it. On this Monday in November, change was coming in quite a momentous way. I still don't know if I was ready.
When I closed my eyes in the days leading up to that Monday, I tried to envision what the final product may look like. I still didn't know what he had in mind, but I had faith that he knew what to do. I guided him as much as I could, gave him the ideas in my head and hoped he could come up with something that I would be happy with. I tried several times to talk myself out of it, but I just couldn't. I would stare at my arm, trying to see it with all my favourite colours. I couldn't but I knew that I wanted to.
The excitement that brewed in my belly was boiling over when Monday finally arrived. Or was it fear? Or was I reconsidering? Still, I don't know. I took a deep breath got in my car and went to get Jazzy. Jasmine is the daughter of a dear friend. She was my back-up, my second opinion, my support. I don't think I really realized at the time how much I was expecting of this young, beautiful 19 year old girl.
I couldn't stop talking for the entire drive. I talk excessively when I am excited and become somewhat of an obnoxious extrovert. When I am nervous about something, I tend to shut down and go inside myself. I took this as a good sign.
I repeatedly told Jazzy to be honest, tell me what you think, offer up opinions or alterations. She assured me she would. When we finally arrived, I thought I truly may bust. It was really happening. I always had thoughts of making this change but never really thought I would have the nerve to do it. I always worried what other people, certain people might think. I was fully aware that there would be a backlash of sorts from people at all levels in my life. I think I have finally reached the point in my life where I just have stopped worrying about it...or at least have started to stop worrying about it. Living one's life by the standards of other people is really no way to live.
Derek is a sweet guy. I liked him instantly the first time I met him. He laughs easily and honestly. He has kind eyes and is a little shy. He showed us what he had drawn for me. My instant reaction was a happy gasp. I adored it. It is exactly what I wanted without really knowing what I wanted. I looked at Jazzy before I actually said anything. She was smiling, she looked at me and nodded her head. I looked at Derek and told him I loved it. He placed the sketch on my arm for general placement. My heart was racing with excitement. I tried to calm myself.
Two months previous, I had gone in to see Derek on my way home from work. It wasn't completely impulsive since I had been thinking about doing it for quite a while. I went in, told him I wanted something, anything! He drew up a teeny flower and got to work. It hurt. More than I remember from the last time I had it done. My hand was shaking and continued to shake for a few hours after. As I stood there, in the shop, on that Monday I thought back to that day. I knew this was going to hurt even more and I really tried to prepare myself.
We went into the back of the shop while Derek prepared his tools. I was pacing and I am sure I was rambling on and on, but I have no recollection of what I was talking about. He finally said "Why don't you have a seat and relax." So I did. Once he was ready, he sprayed my arm, put the transfer on, then, that familiar buzz. He asked me if I was ready and we got started.
The pain was unique and like nothing I had experienced before. I whined and instantly regretted that I did. I wanted to be tough and impress. I watched him and then I didn't and then I watched again. We talked, joked and laughed out loud. Then it quiet except for the buzz of the gun. Then we laughed again. He asked me if I wanted a break. I said no. I just wanted him to finish.
After a little over 2 hours, I started to get really warm, and a little dizzy and then the nausea hit. I told Derek he had to stop. I got up. I needed to get my land legs back. I quietly cursed myself and tried to will this silliness away. But it didn't work. I went and sat down on a stool. I could hear the talking, but it made no sense. The next thing I remember is a face really close to mine but I could not register who it was. Then it hit me. That's right, I am in a tattoo shop, getting and enormous tattoo on my forearm. Then the pain came back and the nausea hit me like a ton of bricks. I ran to the bathroom. I could hear Derek saying "It happens, it is no big deal" to Jazzy and the shop helper. But it was. I was mortified. I gathered myself and went back out. There were chimes of "are you OK?" and "please eat this chocolate" and "sit down over here" all around. There was no judgement, but rather simply concern. Jazzy is a tattoo artist herself and she has had people pass out on her as well. I apologised over and over, but was reassured it truly was not a big deal. They were more concerned that I was OK and they kept pushing the chocolate. I was not to stand and couldn't leave until they were sure I was alright. As embarrassed as I was, I was more comforted by the concern and reassurance. I am glad I came to this shop.
It's been over a week since that Monday of change. I have not had one ounce of buyer's regret or wishes of going back to a less colourful arm. If anything, there are plans on an even more colourful arm. I've gone back to see Derek and apologised again. We laughed and talked about expanding it. He will finish it when it heals.
I think I will go back on a Monday.
The day of eternal start-overs. Monday was the day I committed to a change I thought I would never make. At one time, I saw change as the enemy. I resisted, fought against and rather loathed change. It took a while, but I now realize change does not have to be the big bad monster I once thought. It is necessary to evolve and grow. Overtime, I have started to embraced change, seek it out, welcome it. On this Monday in November, change was coming in quite a momentous way. I still don't know if I was ready.
When I closed my eyes in the days leading up to that Monday, I tried to envision what the final product may look like. I still didn't know what he had in mind, but I had faith that he knew what to do. I guided him as much as I could, gave him the ideas in my head and hoped he could come up with something that I would be happy with. I tried several times to talk myself out of it, but I just couldn't. I would stare at my arm, trying to see it with all my favourite colours. I couldn't but I knew that I wanted to.
The excitement that brewed in my belly was boiling over when Monday finally arrived. Or was it fear? Or was I reconsidering? Still, I don't know. I took a deep breath got in my car and went to get Jazzy. Jasmine is the daughter of a dear friend. She was my back-up, my second opinion, my support. I don't think I really realized at the time how much I was expecting of this young, beautiful 19 year old girl.
I couldn't stop talking for the entire drive. I talk excessively when I am excited and become somewhat of an obnoxious extrovert. When I am nervous about something, I tend to shut down and go inside myself. I took this as a good sign.
I repeatedly told Jazzy to be honest, tell me what you think, offer up opinions or alterations. She assured me she would. When we finally arrived, I thought I truly may bust. It was really happening. I always had thoughts of making this change but never really thought I would have the nerve to do it. I always worried what other people, certain people might think. I was fully aware that there would be a backlash of sorts from people at all levels in my life. I think I have finally reached the point in my life where I just have stopped worrying about it...or at least have started to stop worrying about it. Living one's life by the standards of other people is really no way to live.
Derek is a sweet guy. I liked him instantly the first time I met him. He laughs easily and honestly. He has kind eyes and is a little shy. He showed us what he had drawn for me. My instant reaction was a happy gasp. I adored it. It is exactly what I wanted without really knowing what I wanted. I looked at Jazzy before I actually said anything. She was smiling, she looked at me and nodded her head. I looked at Derek and told him I loved it. He placed the sketch on my arm for general placement. My heart was racing with excitement. I tried to calm myself.
Two months previous, I had gone in to see Derek on my way home from work. It wasn't completely impulsive since I had been thinking about doing it for quite a while. I went in, told him I wanted something, anything! He drew up a teeny flower and got to work. It hurt. More than I remember from the last time I had it done. My hand was shaking and continued to shake for a few hours after. As I stood there, in the shop, on that Monday I thought back to that day. I knew this was going to hurt even more and I really tried to prepare myself.
We went into the back of the shop while Derek prepared his tools. I was pacing and I am sure I was rambling on and on, but I have no recollection of what I was talking about. He finally said "Why don't you have a seat and relax." So I did. Once he was ready, he sprayed my arm, put the transfer on, then, that familiar buzz. He asked me if I was ready and we got started.
The pain was unique and like nothing I had experienced before. I whined and instantly regretted that I did. I wanted to be tough and impress. I watched him and then I didn't and then I watched again. We talked, joked and laughed out loud. Then it quiet except for the buzz of the gun. Then we laughed again. He asked me if I wanted a break. I said no. I just wanted him to finish.
After a little over 2 hours, I started to get really warm, and a little dizzy and then the nausea hit. I told Derek he had to stop. I got up. I needed to get my land legs back. I quietly cursed myself and tried to will this silliness away. But it didn't work. I went and sat down on a stool. I could hear the talking, but it made no sense. The next thing I remember is a face really close to mine but I could not register who it was. Then it hit me. That's right, I am in a tattoo shop, getting and enormous tattoo on my forearm. Then the pain came back and the nausea hit me like a ton of bricks. I ran to the bathroom. I could hear Derek saying "It happens, it is no big deal" to Jazzy and the shop helper. But it was. I was mortified. I gathered myself and went back out. There were chimes of "are you OK?" and "please eat this chocolate" and "sit down over here" all around. There was no judgement, but rather simply concern. Jazzy is a tattoo artist herself and she has had people pass out on her as well. I apologised over and over, but was reassured it truly was not a big deal. They were more concerned that I was OK and they kept pushing the chocolate. I was not to stand and couldn't leave until they were sure I was alright. As embarrassed as I was, I was more comforted by the concern and reassurance. I am glad I came to this shop.
It's been over a week since that Monday of change. I have not had one ounce of buyer's regret or wishes of going back to a less colourful arm. If anything, there are plans on an even more colourful arm. I've gone back to see Derek and apologised again. We laughed and talked about expanding it. He will finish it when it heals.
I think I will go back on a Monday.
