2017?

    2017 has arrived, and the later part of 2016 involved some changes in my life, particularly my body. In November, my wife surprised me by saying "I'm getting a tattoo." O.K., this was a shock on many levels. Not that I'm not happy that she got one, just that she even considered getting one, let alone did so. Sometime around mid November, she had a tattoo artist come to our home, and she had a tattoo inked on her arm; not somewhere hidden, but right on the inner forearm, in clear view. Even more shocking.

    So, this prompted me to move forward to get some ink on my own body, something that I have wanted to do for a long time, much too long to even estimate. So, why had I never gotten any tattoo's before? I have long wanted something on my body somewhere, and could have started with small, insignificant art, somewhere inconspicuous on my body, but that type of random body art has never had any real appeal to me. I have always loved big pieces and full sleeves, but the hodgepodge of random symbols holds no attraction for me. So, I suppose in my conscious mind, I was looking for something that was so important to me, I would want it on my body forever, and would cherish it as long as I lived. Nothing ever clicked though, and that is bizarre in hindsight. Maybe, the subconscious mind wasn't as confident about getting a tattoo as the subconscious. And also the factor of social stigma, I'm sure played a role. I have worked in the construction industry most of my life, so ink is not unfamiliar in this career, but in the last several years I had moved into more of a management role, and it could have been perfectly acceptable, but then again, maybe not. I never really consciously thought about it.

    Back to my bizarre hindsight. After my wife got a tattoo, I knew I just had to get something. Again, this is something I have long desired, and she gets one first. Google images to the rescue. Still thinking, "this has to have real meaning for me, always", I search Google images. Not sure what the search term was, as I tried many, but in one search, a very realistic portrait of a dog appears, and the lightbulb is energized. DOGS! Wow, now that's something meaningful to me, and something that always will, until the day I die, or dementia steals my memory, which is a story for another day. Maybe, if that happens, I'll still enjoy looking at the dogs on my arm, even if I have no idea who they were. Dogs? Yes, I did say dogs, plural. It didn't begin that way, but remember, we are only talking November and there was a whole month left over in 2016.

    Now that I had the idea in my head, I plowed ahead like a bull in a china shop. Sydney! Now that is one meaningful thing in my life, though she has been gone for many years now. Of course, I found a great tattoo idea, and talked to several tattoo artists (in a matter of a few days, bull in a china shop style), but was told repeatedly that they could not make the design that I had in mind work, with the photos that I had. Sadly, I realized that Sydney was with me while I was still using film cameras, and I did not take the multitude of photos that exist of the three current dogs, so there was a very limited choice of photos to use for a portrait. Maybe if I'd been more patient, I may have found a true artist who would have actually drawn fresh artwork and made the original idea work, but at the time, I wanted to get the ink on me. The decision was pushed partially because of timing. All of the artists that I had met with were booked a month or more in advance, but one of them, in fact, I believe the first that I met with, at a shop close to where I work, called and told me he had a cancellation later in the week, and the appointment was mine if I wanted it. I accepted and he worked up the art, from what he considered the best photo that I had. I never actually saw the artwork until I arrived for my appointment, which I was even late for, as the Durham Freeway was a parking lot and It took nearly twenty minutes to get to the next exit, and then I had to drive through town, along with all of the other traffic which also got off of the freeway.

    The artwork was basically the photo I had provided, which he used to make a template to put the outline and highlight areas on my skin. Now if anyone says tattoos do not "hurt" I suppose one could agree, as pain is subjective. There is quite a bit of discomfort and irritation, and some parts do hurt, but it's a manageable pain, meaning the pain level is fairly low, much like a severe abrasion at times and a slight laceration at other times, but the majority of the time, it's just discomfort. Reading, after the fact, the inner forearm is one of the more sensitive ares, so I feel that I handled the discomfort well, never asking for any breaks. Of course, the artist had a couple of smoke breaks and once for a brief consultation, and without them, maybe I would have asked for a short break. Around three hours later, my Sydney tattoo was complete.

    I had been watching most of the tattoo application, as it was happening, and was very impressed by the fact that it really looked like Sydney. Having all of that brindle coloring actually made it easier to make get realism in her portrait. On another level, it was probably more difficult, as it involved a lot of fine line work, rather than shading, and those single needles hurt substantially more, I now know. After he finished, I got my first complete frontal look in the mirror, which is s completely different perspective than looking upside down at my arm from an angle, and I was thrilled at how good it looked. I was wrapped with plastic wrap, sent home and given aftercare instructions. I drove home and my wife was thrilled with the tattoo also. Being me, of course I had to post a photo to Facebook, and others commented on how good it looked, but later, the same people commented that the photos did not do the actual ink justice, and people at work also commented on how good it looked.

The saga will continue in part two to follow.