Arm…is…hurty.

The tattoo looks spectacular, if I do say so myself–she did a GREAT job, and my two inked buddies who came along to provide moral support/ amusing distraction/hand holding in shifts (two hours and some change apiece, for which I owe them both big time, and yes, there was some literal sweaty-palmed kung-fu grip action when she inked around the top of the shoulder and where the feathers hit the inner arm) both vouched for it looking seriously awesome. I am very pleased with it. She fitted it very nicely to the shoulder, and did a really fantastic job on the rendering.

(She also said that I did really well. I asked if she ever told anybody they did terrible. “Yes. Yes, I do.” I felt good about that.)

Just so that nobody has to ask, yes, it HURT. Shit. More than I remember the last one hurting, and the last one hurt like hell on a stick. Granted, this one took almost twice as long…the last hour and a half was really pretty dire, since the skin was incredibly sore by that point, and I’m guessing the endorphins had largely walked off the job by then.

But I live! And I feel all hardcore ‘n shit.  And there’s a friend of mine probably wandering around with purple fingermarks imprinted on his hand, but hey, what are friends for?

Yes, yes, photos will be forthcoming once it’s not oozing blood and all.

And now I’m going to go take the Saranwrap off and clean it and do my deep breathing, and probably not blog any more tonight because typing with a sore arm kinda hurts.