Got tattooed on Saturday! Two words: Holy. Fuck.
Mental note: gain back the 12+ pounds lost doing the 30 Day Shred and P90 before next session. Any padding over my ribby back would be welcome. In fact, gain 30 pounds, soley by eating cream cheese icing and other soft cheese confections. For fun.
So I got a giant Kali mask tattooed on my back. We have a giant Kali mask that hangs at the foot of our bed. It was a wedding present that we bought ourselves. She is beautiful, violent. I am not particularly interested in Hindi or Tantra, but I find her image powerful and I particularly enjoyed looking down at her while I gave birth to Maggie in my bed. While all of my tattoos mean something to me, mostly I just want to look at them. Because they make me laugh, make me thankful, make me happy. Nothing I can overly articulate. I just LIKE them, I like BEING tattooed. I am not all “every BODY has a story” (thank you for that one, Kat VonD, ahem). It’s okay to get tattooed just because.
And so I do.
My tattoo session for the Kali outline was longer than my labor with Meeps. Not kidding.
It hurt. A lot. I was quite sure that spread 9 was actually penetrating my ribs, and filleting the top of my ass. Anyone who says tattoos don’t hurt probably does not have any in their ditches, their throats, their ribs. Anyone who says tattoos don’t hurt has small tattoos.
Like labor, once you start you have to finish. There is no turning back. Like labor, every time the needle lifts, or the contraction stops, there is no discomfort. Everything is clear. You just hold on… let go… be ready to dive back into the waves.
The first few hours were OK. I got by and sat still doing Ina May Gaskin’s “loose lips” breathing. But by the last hour I was worn out and there was nothing but pain. I had no energy left and it was at the part where it just feels like torture. Scott’s friend and #1 Client Myke came in right at the end, I took his hand to hold loosely. I went from a shaking heap to a still, but weeping heap. I was so thankful for that understanding hand, I needed that calm and it worked. He held my hand until the end. What a ride. It was totally a wonderful experience, to arrive at the end of that session with those two men. Transcendent, tremendous… true.
Whenever I am sitting there going “why the hell do I do this to myself?!” I look in the mirror and know. Because they fucking ROCK, that’s why. I love it. I love the experience, I love the result.
I love the adventure. I love following through. I love carrying it with me.
We’ll be covering up the “daeomnic energy wave” ass antlers. And colouring it in… in less marathon lengthed sessions.
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In other news, I had a good scare this morning. Maggie was sitting on the kitchen table naked, and when she stood up there was a clump of brown between her buttcheeks. I thought ohmygod, this is the payback I get for never changing a poopy Meeps diaper. She’s just shit on the kitchen table.
I picked her up slowly. I put my head closer. I sniffed.
She had just sat on a cupcake.