I Regret Everything

Do me a favor and think about the worst decision you've ever made. Got it? Good. Now, hold onto that memory.

Here's the part where I talk about my tattoos. I got my first one in a decrepit basement of a now estranged family member, who, for legal reasons, shall be called "M." It was the summer of 2013, I was 20-something years old, and wanted to start living authentically, which meant doing the one thing I knew my parents would disapprove of, getting a forearm tattoo.

At some point, M and I discussed my desire to be a rebel via strategically placed tattoo and began exchanging text messages. Together we came up with the groundbreaking idea that the word "serenity" in a bold cursive was just the right amount of rebellious.

After working a full shift at an undisclosed location, I met M at his home. He and I talked for a few minutes, then he led me down a flight of stairs into the basement. This was the first red flag of many. In the basement, a stool was set out for me to sit on while my tattoo was done. I did not see a sterilized work area, and M's tattoo gun was held together by mere rubber bands. For the actual tattoo design, no stencil or outline was used. This was the second red flag. Nevertheless, I persisted.

Now, before you judge, think about what I asked you to do at the top of this essay. Scroll back up if you must. The tattooing starts, and the only thought I have is how cool I'll look with my new ink. I zoned off as one does when a needle is being jabbed into one's flesh and didn't notice that M was trying to tell me something. I leaned over and asked him to repeat what he attempted to relay, and it turns out that he needed a short break because he was diabetic, and his hands were starting to shake. Yeah. Obviously, this was the third red flag, only now, it was too late to turn back and get out of there. I persisted.

M returned from his break rejuvenated, hands as steady and unwavering as Ben Carson when he decided not to take the stage at the now infamous 2016 New Hampshire primary. If you didn't get that reference, I have embedded a clip that should jog your memory.

Now that was hilarious and if you disagree, I feel sorry for you.

Okay, back to my tattoo from Hell. Surprisingly, the process did not last very long, which I suppose can be interpreted positively or negatively. M finished my tattoo and applied an antibiotic ointment before he proceeded to wrap my arm with a roll of Glad's Cling Wrap to "keep the germs out."

If you can guess how much I paid for this monstrosity I will Venmo you $100 when the next stimulus check comes.

I paid $40 for my first tattoo. That's right, $40 and at the time I thought that was a steal. It was not a steal. I was so happy to have a tattoo that I posted it to my Facebook page and even made cute black and white edits of it for Tumblr, (R.I.P) where it did not receive many notes. Hmmm.

I can hear you asking "But Sam, do you still have the tattoo and if so what does it look like?" and my answer to that is.

I spent the next few years blissfully ignorant to the eyesore on my left forearm. I wanted, no, I needed people to see that I too had a tattoo. When people would ask what my tattoo said, I gladly explained to them in great detail. I was proud of my tattoo and the fact that I paid only $40 for it.

A few years later, after having spent time with fellow tattooed people and noting the differences in quality, I began to question whether my tattoo was actually good. It was not, of course.

Since then, I have continued to collect tattoos and one cover-up in the hope that someday, all of the good ones will outweigh the bad. Now, I research my artists and ask for work examples because duh. Recently, I commissioned numerical tattoos that represent my birth order and an image of a honeybee that is reflective of both the community garden where I volunteer and new beginnings. I have a faith-based anchor because I have a Christian background, and the words "faith takes" and "wisdom." That reminds me, I kind of hate the word wisdom now because people will ask me why I have the word tattooed on my arm, and it's a whole spiel.

Anyway, to new beginnings and if you're planning to get tattoos, please don't do what I did. Thanks.