I started this post last weekend, and then Windi got sick, so I didn't feel much like posting it. We're doing okay...still shedding a few tears every once in a while, but for the most part we're okay. Jonathan has been such therapy. Okay...on to the post at hand...
Last Friday was a momentous occasion. I walked into my first tattoo parlor. Not for me, mind you...no, my husband got his first tattoo. Now, some of you may think, "What's the big deal?" But I know LOTS of you are thinking, "WHYYYYYYYY?????" (My sister being the chief among these.)
Well, there were a lot of factors involved, but mainly he did it because he's wanted one for a long time. I asked him right after Mother's Day what he'd like for Father's Day and at first he said he didn't want anything. Then, a few days later, he got up enough courage to tell me what he really wanted...a tat (as they say in the biz...I'm all in the know now. HA!).
I was VERY hesitant at first to say yes. Not that he needed my permission to get one, but he did want my blessing. I told him I wanted him to think looooooong and hard about it. He said that he had been and just hadn't said anything to me about it. Goober.
I guess the reason I was hesitant was because as all hip as I've become over the years (BAHAHAHAHAHAHA.....ahem...), and as cool as I think other people's tattoos look, I never really thought about my husband actually getting one...I mean, I was brought up in Southern Baptist churches where you didn't get tattoos...EVER. Anyone who had a tattoo when I was growing up...well...they didn't feel very welcome wearing short sleeves in church. So it was hard for me to get past that old mindset, as prejudiced as that is. Not with other people, mind you...just my husband. ; )
But, I did get over it, and so he made an appointment for Friday afternoon. I went to document the procedure. Not that you wanted the procedure documented, or anything....
Mike, the tattoo artist, prepped his arm and placed the stencil where he wanted it, then got to work.
Mike was a great guy (he's even been to our church several times!) and the place wasn't too bad once we got back in the room where he worked on it. The front of the place was rough, but I think that may have had more to do with the receptionist than anything else. Talk about rough.
I never realized tattoo work was so messy.
By this point, Sound Man was hurting a little. He said it didn't really hurt all that much until he got to the soft part of his arm.
This is a smile that is pasted on through gritted teeth. It was at this precise moment that Mike started working on that soft part of his arm. When I told him to smile, he told me he was doing the best he could. I'm so mean. I made him do it anyway.
In the end, it was a great experience. As far as tattoo parlors go, the place was nice (once you got past the front desk...I'm telling you it was rough up front!). Mike did an excellent job, and my sweetie was happy with the result. I have to admit, as hesitant as I was about saying yes to a tattoo, I like the result. So what does Psalm 34:4 say?