That Time Again

I took this picture last week to get me prepped for the consultation appointment I have with my tattoo artist this afternoon.

About 6 months ago, I started to feel my skin itch again for more ink. I had a vague idea of what I wanted, and thought I'd better call, since I know my guy books at least a few months ahead, though I think now it's closer to 6.

It took a few tries, but I finally got in touch with someone, someone who remembered me:

"Have you had work here before?"

"Yeah, a couple of years ago I had a squid and whale done."

"On... your arm?"

"No, my ribs."

"Oh, okay. I just wanted to make sure it was the same lady."

I guess having miniature versions of giant deep sea animals on your ribcage makes you a lady.

At any rate, she offered up today, two weeks out. I was flabbergasted. Took the appointment, of course, and then started freaking out, because I suddenly had to definitively decide in a damn hurry what was going to be permanently splayed over my body.

Though I won't divulge what it is, my initial plan was grand, covering part of my neck, my shoulder and most of my right upper arm.

I do really want that, at least eventually, but considering that I have a mortgage and a couple of interesting possible trips on my horizon, it might be best to start small and work out from there.

The part I want the most, the part I'm going to start with, is at the top, on the tip of my right shoulder blade, creeping up onto my neck, around into my clavicle.

I've got the photos ready, the deposit in my wallet; dreams of smeary ink, blood, tight weepy skin, shiny colours, arms wrapped around my neck.