The People Who Choose To Love Me

The People Who Choose To Love Me
This is my family. Watermark and all.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Scarred For Life: The Saga Of My Tattoo Apprenticeship

So, this week, I signed up for nail tech school. Yet another thing to add to a long list of careers I have tried, and failed at. Hopefully, this time I will not fail. I actually really can't fail because I will be up to my ears in student loans and I have to not only pay those back, but survive and feed my gaggle of small humans.

When I announced on Facebook that I would be starting this school I also mentioned that hopefully I will not cry when I screw up someone's nails like I cried when I screwed up someone's tattoos when I was apprenticing. I mean, I was learning and all, and I fully warned every willing body that donated their flesh to a (at the time) good cause, but it was still taxing and horrible when I made a mistake. I will start this blog out on a positive note, though. Below is the picture of the last tattoo I completed on my husband's leg. It is a nautilus.

The only tattoo that I only cried about ten times over and didn't turn out to look like complete dog shit.
Is dog shit one word or two? Spell check says two.

Anyway, the beginning  of my tattoo apprenticeship was rough. That's kinda putting it nicely. I started out on pigskin, which, first of all, was really weird. Pigskin is as close to human skin as it gets for practicing and every time I would go into the butcher's shop they would ask if I was making chicharrones, because that, apparently is a thing.

Chicharrones is fried pig skin fat. Otherwise known as Pork Rinds.

I was not making pork rinds, though. I was going to mutilate the dead skin of a pig for artistic purposes. Here is just the initial set up.

Not very pleasing to the eye, huh? Believe me, it was less appealing to the nose...

So, after months of practicing on pigskin and on my poor husband, I started taking willing participants a.k.a. lifelong victims. Some tattoos turned out great, some... not so much...

My husband, for instance, is scarred for life. And, not in a good way. I am showing you what no man, woman, or child will probably ever see in person ever again... My husband's poor thighs.

 This was my first tattoo on human skin!! I cried for thirty minutes.

 Bigfoot, because you know, conspiracies.

 Some weird bird that I picked out of a children's' book and thought was the perfect thing to try and permanently mark my husband's leg with. Your guess is as good as mine.

 A picture off of the cover of a Kurt Vonnegut book. In theory, this would have been a kick ass tattoo.

And, of course, who can live their life properly without a narwhal tattoo?? I know I sure can't and maybe that's why things have gone so wrong. I'm making my appointment today.

So, I guess the whole point of this thing is that maybe nail tech school is safer than apprenticing to do tattoos. I mean, if I screw up a nail, I can remove it with acetone. If you screw up a tattoo, that shit lasts forever. And, believe me, acetone does not remove a tattoo... Even if you think really positive thoughts about it.


  1. I apologize in advance for swearing but that nautilus tattoo is fucking awesome. I've never gotten inked but I'd be thrilled to have that nautilus tattoo--except I've promised myself that the tattoo I finally do get will be a Rabidosa rabida.
    And I immediately recognized the Vonnegut book cover. You nailed it.
    See what I did there? Nailed it.
    You're gonna be fantastic nail tech.

    1. Thanks! I was pretty proud of that nautilus! I did an ear of corn on his forearm, too that turned out pretty good but the ratio of good tattoos to bad ones and crying episodes was not good. I hope you decide to go and get your tattoo soon! They are life changing. I love getting new ones! :)