bruising and satisfaction.

my latest tattoo.

This is me, taken 15 minutes ago. I look horribly wrecked, and I can only put this down to my new tattoo, seen above. I think my body is going through some sort of tattoo overload trauma, because the latest installment of my growing sleeve is not sitting well; I’m lethargic, as if my body is in shock and has decided we need to hibernate the pain away, and in a hell of a lot of pain that I haven’t experienced with my previous pieces. Also accompanying this is what started out as a fairly large bruise and seems to be turning into a fairly disgusting and growing rashy red skin freak-out. This does not please me at all.

Bruising

This was the bruise on Saturday, a few hours after the initial tattooing, and since then it has died down from a purple to a fairly angry red and has spread around my arm in a vicious way. I’m pretending this isn’t happening mostly, but have taken my mother’s advice and drawn a hefty permanent marker line around the offending rash-bruise to keep a better eye on it, because, as she says, “I don’t like that it’s not purple like a bruise anymore. Red isn’t good.” Besides all the whinging, I am rather in love with my new tattoo, it couldn’t have turned out better and I really must stop bollocking on about it. (For more photos of the new ink in its full colour glory, click the photos and they’ll take you to my Flickr account.) If you don’t hear from me in a week, expect an upcoming post about becoming an amputee, or possibly contracting cellulitis or blood poisoning. Ta!

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