My First Tattoo

Well the story began long time ago when I was in high school. For some rare reason the tattoos always catch my attention but for “society” it was wrong to have a tattoo ’cause you automatically become a thief or a criminal just because you want to express with images or phrases in your skin. So can’t even talk to my family or friends about getting a tattoo because I’ll become a criminal and more in the place where I was living (a small town where everyone knows everything of everyone). So this idea stay in the back of my head for a long time until one day my best friend told me “I want to get a tattoo” and automatically the idea that was hide in the most recondite of my head pop up and I say me too.

In that time my best friend work in other place and we only get together some times not as usual as before, until some months later when we see each other he told me “I made my first tattoo” a mix of feelings invaded my being, I was happy for him but at the same time he have a tattoo and I didn't, and then is when I say it’s time for my fist tattoo!

I tell my friend if he can help me find a place where I can make my tattoo and so it begin the search for “the perfect place”. We start whit a small place it was clean and the artist had a great portfolios but the true the cost it was really expensive, so we continue with the next place.

Here the artist were great, the place too and the cost it was acceptable but they have a 2 months waiting list, too much time for me.

Next place it was awful it was like a scene from a horror movie so next.

The next place it was a tiny studio from a Venezuelan guy who have a great portfolios, an acceptable cost and the time, but we decide to keep searching for options.

The next place it was clean and good cost but the portfolios was horrible, no detail, crooked lines, no colors, etc. So we continue.

The last place to check was a place who everyone recommended, it was like the starbucks of tattoo in the town, the places was great the artist were OK, no great and the prices where on the average, the only problem they feel so HIGH they can’t give us a quotation, so good bye.

And we end with the Venezuelan guy, we make our appointment and wait for the day, it was a a sunny hot Sunday, so in our way to the tattoo place we stop for some beers (to be hydrated you know) and when we arrived he tell us the rule for her workplace: no wailing or crying. We fill the papers and the “action” start. I was the first, my tattoo a feather in my right arm, the meaning: we write our own destiny, I know that the feather it suppose to mean freedom but for me have a different meaning. The thing that most amaze me from this guy is he don’t have an stencil he made the draw bear hand and after he make the image he start with the tattoo. Everyone says that a tattoo hurts but to be honest my tattoo don’t hurt as much as other people says (at least don’t hurt as I imagine) and it don’t took so much and the result was superb.

That was a short story of my fist tattoo!

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