Yesterday I did something that is very typical of me: I was incredible impulsive. I decided the day before yesterdday that it was time to do something about my old (2 yrs) and not that beautiful tattoo (according to me taht is, mum), a flower on my left wrist. Anyway I called a tattoist and got an apointment. So today I've got a black heart, drawn by me, on my (hurting and double sized) wrist, instead.
A few nice people from the class accompanied me to the hell hole where I was due to lie on a bench, having a needle covered in paint being squeezed into my poor wrist. My plan was for Anna to hold my hand, but that wasn't allowed as the tattooist "was very determent to keep the hygiene at a good level". Fuck it liksom, I really needed that support! Because MAJ GAD it hurt. It was worse than when an elephant steps at your toe, it felt more like ten elephants dancing to Pussycat Dolls, wearing high heels too.
I actually think it was the worst time of my life, and according to Anna (who were nice enough to stay outside to pick up the pieces, and to see the final result) you could hear my screamings all the way to the waiting room. Must point out here that I did sing a bit too to get some nice thoughts in my head and not just "motherfcukinghelvetejävlaskit I am an idiooootpuckat pucko I'll never ever do this again".
It's a quite large tattoo (not huge), but I like it as it actually feels a bit like me, if you know what I mean. Now I can say that I always follow my heart and just point in the direction I want to go (höhö).
The best part of it all? I have to do it again to refill the black color. So if anyone knows someone who are in contact with a drug dealer, please call me.
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