I was always told that the colour/shading part of a tattoo was the least painful. LIES! Never before have I wanted to kick someone (sorry Flo Nuttall!) in the head as much as I did a month ago. Now, I should probably add that I was on antibiotics and dying from a kidney infection at the time so throwing pain at my flimsy body probably didn’t help.
Yes I should have cancelled.
Yes I should have told them.
Yes I should have ate something.
But where’s the fun in that…?
Why yes, that is blood dripping down my leg. Turns out that antibiotics make you bleed like an utter bitch. On top of that, I turned into a human vibrator who couldn’t walk in a straight line let alone take a non shaky photo. I was also rocking the junky look on the bus home – puffy/black eyes, paler than usual, slumped in the seat and had blood running down my leg. H-o-t.
A few days later, I crawled out of my death bed to clean up the beast properly. I was pretty chuffed. Mum proceeded to tut loudly.
And tah-dah! 3 weeks later and it’s (almost) healed. The demented family portrait, that took me God knows how many years to decide on, is now complete.
My dad will never find out about this.
Tattoo by Flo Nuttall.
