First off, this is the official notice of potential (mild) trigger warnings ahead. Check the tags if you’re someone who might be triggered.
So if you follow me on twitter or instagram (my handle is LikeASmallFire for both platforms), you already know the surprise–I got a tattoo on Monday. This would be my second one, and it’s hilarious how different my whole approach to ink is since my first tattoo, a whopping two years ago. You can read about that approach here. This time, as I described it to my sister laughingly, absolutely no fucks will be given.
Which, for the record, doesn’t mean I didn’t put a lot of thought into the tattoo I wanted. My little pterodactly and I have a two year history, an epic Facebook inside joke, and a lot of laughs together before he ever became a tattoo. Whereas last time I wanted something small, obsessed about the possibilites of hiding it for work and professional settings, and bought a leather cuff that has the same width as my tattoo, this time I just feel like I went balls to the wall. Starting from my elbow, this sucker goes about five inches down my arm, and wraps around over three inches. It’s not monolithic by any standard, but it is definitely not going to be hidden by a cuff. There is no hiding this tattoo, and the best part is, I don’t want to hide it. Not at all.
If you look closely at the photo, that scar there is the answer, every single time, to the question “But what about employment where you can’t display a tattoo?” The truth is, I haven’t worn a short sleeve shirt to work since that scar first made an appearance, and I doubted I ever would.
>>cue pterodactly entrance
Seriously, so much love for that weird creature. And so much gratitude for the very awesome dude that put it there. He was the height of professionalism, and the whole shop was just amazing and clean and comfortable. I had the best experience, and I’m just so happy about my tattoo.
Oh and for your viewing pleasure, the tattoo artist accepted our polite request to take some photos of the process.