OUCH! DAYUMM YEW!

I was in my friend C's office Friday afternoon and the conversation turned to what we might do on Saturday night. We're two people that always talk about getting out at night together, but then never do. For some reason, this Saturday evening was special. I walked into my favorite Lebanese restaurant down in The Loop and was welcomed by C yelling my name from behind me. We hugged tightly. This would be a special occasion indeed.

We had been throwing around the idea of heading down to a tattoo shop down the road after dinner. C had an idea, but was not quite ready. I knew exactly what I wanted and produced the image from my purse. Our waiter, who had just shown us his brand new Russian prison tattoo, gave us the receipt for the dinner and we headed out into the cold, cold night.

When we walked into the studio, I signed up and waited for my name to be called. The overhead speaker was blasting The Who's "Teenage Wasteland" followed by "Pinball Wizard". C and I had a funny moment when while silently killing time looking at the stock selections we both sang "SURE PLAYED A MEAN PINBALL" in unison.

When my artist called me back and was ready to go he asked "are you nervous, little flower?" I dismissed the question, but dear god, yes I was. The real estate for the tattoo was in the small of my back and above my existing tattoo where my spine is super sensitive. I knew this was going to be a bitch to sit through. I still had no idea.

C sat in front of me and I grabbed her hand like I was giving birth the natural way. With every outline of every curve I grimaced and squeezed for dear life. C tried to talk to me, but I couldn't converse. I was too busy grinding my teeth. Also, why was the pretty girl next to us getting, of all things, an anchor tattooed on her stomach? I listened to C's stories of past conferences and tried my best to lose myself in her thoughts so that I could abandon my own physical pain, but it was futile. Finally, the artist stopped and said "ok, look- every time you wiggle I might screw this up. So, stop wiggling." I glanced at C and swallowed. This has to be perfect. So, I focused and stopped wiggling.

During the peak of the pain "Squeeze Box" played. The artist started singing along with "in and out and in and out". This was followed by C and me, practically nose to nose, singing with our best falsettos "squeeze me, come on and squeeze me/ Come on and tease me like you do/ I'm so in love with you." It helped. Singing this lyric truly helped.

Then it was over and the pain was gone. No endorphins kicked in during this session. Oh no. That would have been too easy. The pain was over when the session was over. Despite my "wiggling" the artist managed to create a perfect image. C and I looked at it, hugged each other and then burst into crazy laughter.

When it came time to call an end to the lovely evening, I smiled and really meant it. I had finally taken the next step and gotten that symbol that brings together two of my favorite things: love and metal. -K