Tattoos Still Hurt

I've decided to dedicate the week to talking about tattoos. Why? Because this is my blog and I can do whatever I want. Sounds kind of childish, but it's the truth. 

Today, I am going to talk about why tattoos still hurt. Because it's the day after and when I woke up my arm was terribly swollen and tender. This is about thirteen hours after I got my lazy ass out of bed, and it's still fairly swollen. This is expected. After all, I had a bunch of needles jabbed into my arm. 

Now, washing a tattoo the morning after doesn't tickle. The best way to describe the sensation is burning. If you have ever had to wash out an open wound, then you know the feeling. Except instead of just rinsing it out, you are scrubbing it with soap and water to get all the blood, plasma and Vaseline off. Even the water hitting it can be excruciating. This is why tattoos still hurt. And they will continue to hurt for at least a week. Whenever you bump it or brush it, or roll over onto it when you're sleeping, it's going to twinge, throb, ache and pulse. 

Yeah, I'm starting to wonder why I did this to myself. 

Here's the thing about healing a tattoo - most artists have their own aftercare instructions. As long as you aren't getting your body art done in prison or in some scratchers basement, then you have probably been given a piece of paper with steps on how to best heal your new piece of art. For the most part, the instructions cover the same bases: 

• No swimming
• No sun
• Don't let it rub on anything (like clothing, or your desk at work)
• Never scratch or pick at your tattoo

Other than these steadfast rules, aftercare instructions can vary immensely. This seems weird, right? Like why can't all tattoo artists decide on one steadfast set of healing instructions for us clueless folk to follow? I can't answer this. I even asked the Sidekick and he didn't have a good reasons either. He basically said something about everyone being different. Yes, yes, you're all unique flowers, but how are we supposed to know what's best for our tattoo? I actually headed over to Dr. Google's house and asked him all about tattoo aftercare. You wouldn't believe the crap the intersnacks spat out. I am seriously worried people might actually be taking some of these yahoos at their word. 

One website said to put baby powder on your tattoo to prevent it from sticking to your bed sheets at night. Why is your tattoo weeping so bad you're sticking to your bed sheets? This is a sign the bandage should have been kept on longer. Using Neosporin on it? Why would you need an infection fighting ointment? The key is to heal your tattoo so damn well an infection doesn't happen, then you'd never need a product like this. Putting rubbing alcohol or Listerine on your tattoo to stop it from itching? Um, yeah, anything with alcohol will only dry it out more and make it that much itchier. 

So, there is a lot of bad information on the internet. Surprise, surprise. If you are confused about your healing instructions, then you should contact your artist. I did. I rolled over and said, "Honey, should I put lotion on this thing now?" Okay, I have an advantage. 

But seriously, though, I hope you do your research and pick a good artist. One who wears gloves. One who doesn't eat a sandwich while tattooing. Someone who doesn't have his cat's litter box in the same room as his machines. An artist who doesn't call his tattoo machine a gun. An establishment that doesn't have a ridiculous spin on their name - like the Mad Tatter or Rat-a-tat-tats. An artist that doesn't refer to himself as an ink-slinger. 

My one piece of advice to you apart for choosing a good artist? Keep it clean. That means no touchy-touchy with those germy little digits you pick your nose with. Pretty simple, right? Well, that's me. A simple girl with a swollen arm.  

Tattoos Hurt - FYI

For some reason, whenever you get a tattoo, people feel the need to ask if it hurts. Just so everyone is on the same page about this form of art. Yes, tattoos hurt. Quite a bit, in fact. It isn't always the same pain all the way through, though. It's varying degrees of ouch. Oh, and some areas hurt more than others.

Pain is a tricky creature.

In the tattooing world, it is known that the top of the foot and the neck hurt the most. Since I have both of my feet done, I will have to get a neck tattoo to tell you which one hurts more. Right now, though, I have to say the wrist hurts more, especially if you are doing more than a stupid line drawing.

Today, my Sidekick tattooed a beautiful cover-up on me. It took about three hours and thirty-seven of those minutes were this needling, burning, terrible pain I was certain I wasn't going to live through. I tried to not whine or writhe, but there were these tender spots I seriously regretted having done. Most of the other minutes were uncomfortable, but bearable. And about twenty-four of those minutes I was in very little pain. Regardless, the whole time there was hurting going on. 

Some people deal with pain better than others. Some people love pain. Thrive off it. Enjoy it. I am not one of those creature. That being said, I have a fairly high threshold for pain and just because I sat for three hours, doesn't mean someone else can. To be honest, I mostly did it to prove my Sidekick wrong. And also, I like finishing what is started on the spot, so there is no need to go back to it in the future. 

While I am sad to say goodbye to my adorable line bunny, I am happy to say hello to my new, bigger, more badass bunny. And also, I love my cabbage. So, I am very happy. Now I have come down from my adrenaline high and need to go to bed. Goodnight. 

Into The Swing Of Things

One of the most gruelling aspects of writing is getting back into the swing of writing a story after having put it down for an extended period of time. Currently, I am writing the third instalment in an urban science fiction novel with a writing friend and I've been procrastinating writing my chapter because my interest has waned.

Don't get me wrong, the book is amazing. But the rapid fire way in which we used to write has fallen to the wayside. Sometimes we are waiting weeks for the other to finish a chapter. This is when it gets hard. It staunches the creative flow and our excitement dwindles. I have, literally, been sitting on my chapter for a month. In my defence, my co-writer did go to Disney World. How fair is that?

Not fair at all. I mean, I really want to see Harry Potter World.

Still, I dropped the ball. I have been looking at the email in my inbox and feeling guilty. It's all on me this time. Disney World be damned.

The funny part about this whole fiasco is how fast the first two books in the series were done. We are talking a matter of weeks and they were finished. Why is this one like pulling teeth, or whatever other cliche you feel like using? I don't know if it's because this is the final book in the series, or our lives are falling apart, or I'm just not on the computer as much, but it's been so hard writing this book.

Even harder getting back into writing it after putting it aside for awhile. Even rereading it doesn't always help. So, I force myself to write. And it is painful. To read. To execute. To write. Sometimes I wonder if it's so tedious because it isn't right. Like, maybe the direction we are going is all wrong. I certainly hope not.

All I can tell you is that I am pushing forward until I am back in the swing of things and things are swinging freely.

Clearly I am tired and I should be going to bed. And meditate, of course.

Take A Bath

Today hasn't been easy.

This week hasn't been easy.

Last couple months? Also not easy.

This last year, actually kind of tough.

When in doubt, take a bath. A nice hot one. With bubbles. Or, a fancy bath bomb a coworker bought you for your one year anniversary. Then, just soak. Soak until you are relaxed. Or at least until you are shrivelled like a prune. After, get out and into bed. And don't wake up at five in the morning thinking about nachos.

The headache will go away.

No clothes are being worn in this picture.

27 Degrees

No, this isn't an all boy pop band. Although, I did just have this conversation with my Sidekick: 

Me: 98 Degrees ... that's insane. I mean, how hot is that.

He: No, you fool. Fahrenheit, not Celsius. 

Me: Oh. Did you just call me a fool?

I live in Canada. So, when I say it was twenty seven degrees, I mean it was in the eighties for you folks down in the United States of America. By the way, the metric system is grand and you all, or y'all, should hop on board, so I don't have to be called a fool anymore. Regardless, I am a bit foolish, and this whole scenario made me laugh. 

That being said, it was hot out today. It's the beginning of May, everything is in bloom, and I seriously regretted wearing tights to work. Thank goodness I had the foresight to leave my pants at home. No pants is always ideal when dealing with summer-like conditions. 

With the sun comes trips to the beach, higher levels of serotonin, skimpy clothes and shots of vitamin D. Depression goes out the window when you're speeding down the highway at 140 (kimometers, not miles), listening to catchy beats, and eating cherries. It is known. Unfortunately, down goes productivity on writing projects and the cleanliness of one's abode. 

Still, summer is around the corner and I live in a beautiful part of the world. And I feel like being happy about that. 

And here I am with another fool.