As a birthday present to herself, Savia decided to get a brand new tattoo, and she asked me if I would come along to photodocument the process. How could I say no? There were going to be motor-driven needles jackhammering into her flesh! And bubbly, smeary bloodletting! And I would get to see her grimace while some guy tortured her nerve-endings! Of course, I said yes.
I had this weird spasm of high school awkwardness when she and I took off our coats at the tattoo place, because, aside from our belts, we were dressed exactly the same: Fussy t-shirts, medium-blue jeans, and red leather shoes. A dramatic teenager in my head was rolling her eyes and saying Oh gawd, there's no WAY we can be out in public like this!, but then I remembered that I am a grown-up and that the proximity of our similar articles of clothing could in no way decrease the magnitude of my awesomeness.
Once the tattoo gun was humming along her spine, Savia made some disconcertingly sexual-looking O-faces. Not that she was orgasming mid-tattoo, but taken out of context, I could have had some very dirty-seeming photos getting heavy traffic on Flickr. Sadly, none of the O-face photos came out with any clarity.
Short of crawling into the tattoo artist's lap, there was no way for me to wedge myself between the table and counter to get any good shots of Savia's blood beading. Her choice of the colour brown served to give me some violent shots, anyway, so I have reconciled myself with that.
I swear, part of me still five years old and completely smitten with cuts and scrapes and bruises.
And, voilà! She has bought a gorgeous piece of physical history for herself, which will detract from the other bit just below it to the right where her brother once chomped on her while wearing braces during a sibling battle-to-the-death. Ain't life sweet.
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