By no means my first tattoos, but definitely the most significant since the very first one I got when I turned 18.
Not only are they my first truly visible tattoos (my others are on my back), what they represent is a new stage in my life that I've worked so hard to get to but never believed I would actually achieve. They represent getting my life back on track, getting back to school, getting into college, and completing my very first semester.
They are wolf paws (actual sized) with a scene of a tee-pee and fire under a full moon and dusk sky within one, and a wolf eye looking through the paw print back out at you, in the other...
Now I know what some of you are gonna say about tattoos...
That here's just another woman ruining her future by marking herself up like some common floozy, limiting her choices of employment, and even limiting her pool of potential mates. That just like everyone else she picks some random "symbol" to represent some meaning that no one but her will understand, so they will seem confusing to everyone else. That I'll look horrible when I'm old and my tattoos are all warped and saggy...yea...yea...heard them all....
But unlike a lot of these people out here who are getting tattoos because they are following a growing fad, I've loved tattoos since I was old enough to form vowels. The idea of wearing someones artwork as a part of you forever I always found fascinating and beautiful. The fact that it's reminiscent and originated from of ancient tribal practices that used them to mark important times in a persons life appealed to me most of all. That's why each tattoo I have I got during an important time in my life. Each one is a way of remembering an important time in my life, an important step in my journey, and by setting a reminder within my skin, I never forget it or the pain that it took to get me there.
An old acquaintances from when I was a teenager and going to native ceremony's. He's a big guy who probably could break me like a twig, and has probably broken others, but was nothing but a sweet gentlemen with a twisted and warped sense of humor (so u know he's my people).
He's basically a tall bearded wizard who welds a tattoo wand, a funny ass dude and a great guy. Plus if your lucky, he'll introduce you to his second in command Genkie (hope I spelled that right), his beautiful dingo mix.
Right now he's doing private tattoos out of his studio in New York but because his web sight is currently down, the best way to contact him is on Facebook.
The weirdest part is I found him by mistake. I was looking for a good tattoo studio in Manhattan, close to school and discovered a shop called East Side Ink...While looking through their porfolio, the high level of skill that these guys possessed actually made me giddy with excitement, but then I saw a familar face. I couldn't place it at first until I saw some old pictures my teacher had up on her Facebook page and realized I met the dude years ago when I was in high school. It was then I knew this was the guy who was gonna do my tattoo. It was way too coincidental. So I started up communication, found out he was just as cool as I remembered and got the ball rolling.
It took 3 1/2 - 4 hours (can't quite remember since I was high on endorphin's by the end of it...lol), with a 5 min break between each arm. Probably should have done each arm in separate sessions, but between wanting to be a bad ass, needing to get the pain over with so I wouldn't pussy out, and anxiously wanting to see it all finished, I pushed through.
Some people though excited about me getting my tattoos at first had a bit of a reverse reaction once they finally saw how big they were and where they were placed. My aunts who loved the idea of me getting ink all of a sudden seemed shocked and worried that they were too big and would be too visible, but eventually got over it and became positive again.
Then my uncles, who I expected a strong negative reaction from because of how they had reacted when I had revealed my first couple tattoos, seemed to handle it better then their sisters.
My mom of course was solid and unchanging with her enthusiasm. Not only accompanying me when I got the tattoos, but was chomping at the bit to help me plan my next one.
But I began to realized my family weren't the only ones reacting to my new tattoos.
I was now getting side glances on the train as well as funny looks while walking down the street. But this, unlike my families reaction, I found rather humorous.
So I began fucking around with people on my train rides to class. I would make sure I left the house looking very cute and sweet, but making sure my tattoos were covered. Then when I got on the train, nice and comfortably seated, I'd raise my sleeves and watch the fireworks of popping eyelids and double takes.
It's like smorgasbord of expressions, my favorite being confusion...lol
So yes...I got me a pair of bold tattoos...the first ones I don't need a mirror and gymnastic flexibility to look at and I'm super happy with them. I've already started to forget they're even there and am already thinking about my next one...
The only thing is I have yet to tell my father...because I know he's NOT gonna react well and because I'm a chicken shit...
I might be able to sit through almost constant pain like a bad ass but I'm still a chicken on some things....
Well....at least I'm an honest chicken...lmao!
