So yeah. After dropping off my design on Monday, rescheduling two appointments because of 'life' getting in the way, Dylan (with fully charged phone) and I walked through the doors of Oakleigh Ink http://www.oakleighinktattoo.com.au/ at 5.00pm yesterday - not that any of you are ever to be down this way let alone do what I did, but that's the place.

Two and a half hours later, spent largely on my stomach and dribbling into the 'headrest' thingy because of the way I was positioned, I stood up (well it was more a process of slowly moving each body part and then telling my brain they all worked) I had my very first (and last) tattoo!

Troy was great. Dylan had doubts about him all week; he also had doubts about me going through with it, about the design itself and about his mother getting a tattoo in the first place... Despite this, I don't think there's anyone who doesn't know about it now - and he has quite a few friends spread around the world. I think I was a big part of the chatter during their games of COD?

"So. Where do you want it?" Troy asked me.

We'd been debating this in the car and Dylan was of two minds: Why get a tat if no one can see it, and since I had no penis - he'd made me see some photos I will never 'un-see' a couple of nights ago when I was cooking their dinner and I stupidly asked him to Google the best place to get one - he said any other place not classified as a 'slut-tat' area?

"What the hell is a slut-tat?"

"You know - when girls in jeans squat and you see a butterfly or something on their lower back?"   

"Right."

Earlier in the day, we were buying some chicken breast for his dinner and he had brought up the tattoo situation again. "You could always put it like over your heart? On your chest?"

"Ummm... Guys have chests?"

"Oh yeah. Hey mum, how do you say chicken breast in grandma's language?"

I translated the word 'breast'.

"What about the chicken word though?"

"Don't need it."

"But then how do people know you are asking for chicken breast? What if you want other meat... like from a cow?"

Oh boy. "That would be an udder Dylan. You don't eat udders?"

Yeah. We were in the supermarket again, and he was wearing his latest purchase, one of those woolly caps with ear muffs and pompoms at the ends? He'd found one without an animal face on it earlier. He'd also purchased three pairs of identical black jeans with the entire knee area exposed in what was considered 'fashionable' tears.

"Don't wear these every day," I'd cautioned him." People will think you're wearing your only pair of jeans. And why three?"

"Look at the size of these holes mum," he'd replied, emerging from the change room and doing the 'slav squat'. "They're gonna rip right through at some point and become shorts see? So I'm thinking ahead."

Okay.

Back to Troy. I said, "What about on my shoulder?" I saw him frown a little. And hesitate?

"Yeah, let's go for left shoulder." My mind was made up, frown or not.

Dylan had pulled up a very comfy leather chair in the meantime. He'd Googled something along the lines of 'Tattoo pain map'. Troy applied this 'numbing cream', to the area and then set about preparing the stencil and the inks. Dylan put the phone right to my nose.

"Back it up - can't see that close without my glasses!"

"Look at the bright red areas."

The shoulder area was bright red. The only area not varying in any shade of red was the buttocks.

Hmmm. Maybe that was why Troy had frowned?

I told him to remove it from my face rather impolitely. I focussed my eyes instead on a young guy at the opposite table, getting the letters "FAITH" tattooed on his thumb and fingers. His eyes were glistening, his mouth was set in a rather strange grimace, and he was doing an excellent job of... not bawling? They'd been red areas too on the pain map...

I could hear the intermittent buzz as the needle was worked by Becky. Every time it touched his skin, he gave this weird half 'man, that hurts' half 'I am so brave' smile. Hmmm again.

Troy finished the prep-work. The stencil was finally in the exact position.

"Now I am going to test a little area, right? See how you tolerate it?"

"Sure." My left hand alongside my body gripped at a piece of the jacket now draped across my lower back, due to the cold.

"Some people say it feels a little like a bee-sting? You know?"

Oh I'd been stung by bees. The last time on the sole of my foot, walking along the beach and I had limped for days afterwards. I had also walked a couple of kilometres back to the house, straight after being stung? I knew that pain well.

But Troy had a few tattoos himself? I did wonder for a moment why he didn't describe the experience firsthand? As in quite categorically telling me exactly what the pain would feel like?

"Oh and did you have something to eat before you arrived?"

"I did. Was I supposed to?" Man, what did food have to do with tattoos? Was he worried I would bring everything up and mess with the pristine floor?

"That's a good thing. Your blood pressure drops when getting tattooed, and with an empty stomach your sugar levels drop too. Some people feel feint? If you start feeling like that, let me know, and I'll give you a lollipop.

Uh huh! That explained why I'd seen so many people with bright red lollipops in their mouths both on the Monday and today... I'd thought it a special treat - you know - like when you go to the doctor as a kid and you get jelly beans after your vaccination?

I mentally recounted my 'last meal': Home-made guacamole dip and some organic 'ancient seeds and grains' crackers... was there carbohydrate or sugar in any of it? Probably not?

"Ready?"

"Yep."

Okay. Here's where it gets really weird. It didn't hurt. On a pain from nothing to childbirth - and you know that story - this didn't even register as a 'kick'. It felt... pleasant? Almost soothing?

Dylan was poised with the phone in video mode, waiting to 'capture' my initial reaction. I smiled and stuck a middle finger up at him.

"Haha, I can do this all day!" And I could. At that point. Dylan sat back down, not amused. He started rifling through Reddit.

"Wanna hear something funny?"

"Now?"

"Oh yeah. You might laugh and then... Troy and the needle thing."

"Duh! Read out some 'Today I learned'?" This was standard procedure on long drives. A mix of TIL and 'Not the Onion'. 

So began a series of "Hey mum, did you know..." as I mumbled and dribbled into the thankfully disinfected and plastic-filmed headrest. The first hour passed rather pleasantly. I drifted off from time to time, thoughts on new writes, this write, some other personal stuff...

Midway into the second hour, I felt the 'bee sting'. Okay, not too bad.

"Dyls, check on it, you're supposed to be taking shots of the progress!"

"Oh yeah." He stood, walked around behind Troy, then sat down again.

"Looks good. All black squiggly lines."

There were no black 'squiggly' lines on the design!

"You mean as in outline right?" My eyes were firing a lot of other question at him though. Like "Is he good?" "Does it look like the picture?" "Why aren't you showing me a photo?"

Troy laughed. The bee stings were now turning to... how does one describe it? A wasp that settles on your shoulder and just keeps doing its thing? And you can't kill the little bastard? Not that I would kill of course, but at least swat it away?

Almost into the third hour, I heard the magic words: "Applying the colour now."

This statement brought both Becky and the younger apprentice over for a look. "Awww, cute!" This from Becky... the exact same reaction I had received when first showing her the design: "Awww, cute!" I was picturing the stencil and the cuteness re-applied to others' body parts damn it! Would I be seeing it everywhere, like when you buy a new car and see replicas of it all around you?

"Talk to me Dylan. Dylan!" My 'wasp' was getting increasingly obnoxious.

"The numbing cream wearing off?" This from Troy, who must have picked up the desperation in my voice?

"All good. I can feel it now, but it's not as bad as I'd expected?"

"Hey mum, maybe the nerve pain in your back has made you more tolerant to pain?"

"Dylan, think. Please!"

"Oh yeah, that would make you more tolerant to that pain too right?"

"Read!" The entire left side of my face was stuck to the cling-film. I wondered if the many creases I could feel would be of a more permanent nature. I also wondered why I was drooling every time I opened my mouth.

"Ummm... did you know the South Korean language is made up of syllables? See? I am almost at three stars." The phone was shoved in my face again.

"Dylan! No!"

"Well you're stuck there, so why not learn a little? Say 'ghe'."

"Dylan!"

"The Government paid ten grand for each of us to learn the language before our trip in September see? Ten of us going - that's a hundred grand and all we're doing is using an app."

Troy joined in the discussion. "Someone's making money out of this. Always the case. What are you studying Dylan? Are you at TAFE?"

"Nuh Uni, at Swinburne."

"So what are you doing there?"

"Networking, at the moment." This from a kid who in cahoots with a few of his mates had gone ahead and purchased EVERY domain in this teacher's future business idea. http://xploreme.com.au/ is where the teacher planned to launch his new travel site? He had them working on it, using their time to further his personal business and they hadn't taken kindly to this. So Dylan parked an idea there, to bypass 'squatting'. He added a song and every time one refreshes the page, a different image pops up? Could be anything - if you click on the link, I am not responsible for the content... You might see some 'un-seeable' things? It's hit the front page of Google though... Teacher still has not caught on, after many weeks.

Silence from Troy. "Computers," I added, helping him out.

"Oh yeah!" he said, hearing the magic word. I have had to add this on several occasions... when Dylan has answered this question with "ICT" or "Networking".

"Almost done," Troy said half an hour later, after I had endured a thorough lesson on Korean syllables.

"Thst great" I mumbled into the cling film. That's not a spelling error. It's what I said - my cheek and left side of the mouth permanently stuck, the word adding more dribble?

"You can stand now, go slowly and if you feel light-headed, let me know, okay?"

Oh I went slowly, as I said above. I sat up, rubbing the left side of my face in a vain effort to bring circulation back and undo some of the creases I could feel? Troy was applying some cream.

"Can I look now?"

"Sure. Use that mirror, you can walk real close to it."

I walked the couple of metres, turned my back and yeah, there was my tattoo! Sitting proudly awash in a sea of red, irritated skin. Permanently. Not the irritated part, Troy assured me in about two weeks that would all settle down. The permanent part.

Then followed the gory instructions... Like don't worry about the puss that will form - apparently it will scab over? "Keep it constantly moist. Don't let it dry out. But not too much, it has to breathe." Moist but not too much. Got it. The puss and scab I tucked away in my mind. Far away.

Two hundred and fifty dollars later and a small tube of cream "thrown in" - yeah, I can hear your collective gasp but I went to the 'cleanest' tattoo place in Melbourne, not wanting any added extras like the Hep C one or two 'acquaintances' had taken home along with their ink - I had a patch of cling film over the tattoo with some pieces of tape holding it together and... a slight pain in the area.

Back home, Marcus wanted a look-see.

I pulled my jacket off my shoulder. "Dylan, lift the patch."

"Not touching it. There's blood."

"Blood?"

"What do you think Troy was wiping at every few minutes?"

"Blood? Get it off now!" Dylan was gently peeling back the sticky tape.

"Just rip in off in one go!" Marcus was laughing so hard he almost dropped his headset again... The one I'd bought him a couple of days earlier to replace the one the cat had 'caused to fall' - two months after its purchase.

"Nice," Marcus said, then turned back to his game. Not one for many words, my second son. I got the look though.The 'my mum is acting weird again' look?

"Put it back Dylan. Remember what Troy said about infection during the first 24 hours!"

"I'm trying!" He was being overly cautious. What with the little splotches of blood and all the redness...

"Try harder! I don't want it coming off in the night!"

Whack! Yeah. He smacked it on, and that - that was the first 'real pain' I felt.

"Seriously?" I used another word ahead of this...

"Well it's stuck now."

My mother chose that moment to walk into the garage. Dare I say I was glad she couldn't see properly? I whipped the jacket back over my shoulder.

Dylan sniggered. "They're all gonna know sooner or later mum. Grandma will threaten to kill herself, you know the routine."

Yeah, that's all ahead of me. The first tattoo in our extended and rather large circle? But hey, I have at least five months of cold weather ahead. Plenty of time to 'work' it in and stave off any possible suicides...

P.S. Two things: Women are better at tolerating pain - you blokes out there who consider yourselves tough, Troy gave away your secrets, haha. Also, Dylan refuses to believe that I would have tolerated it without the 'miracle' numbing cream. See, he asked Troy if it was used on everyone? Troy had said "Not really."

So all I have now is the bloody cream see - not my bravery or resilience. Dylan quickly spread the word: "My mum had to have a numbing cream... lol."