Tattoos or Ice Cream?

Today I learned that my good friend was going for a tattoo consultation.  She told me recently what she wanted to get inked on her bikini area and the reasons why.  She is honoring her fit, lean body with a symbol that is near and dear to her heart.  After knowing her for 30 years, I’m not surprised by this decision.  What’s surprising to me though is the hesitation.  She’s the type of woman who may wake up in the morning and decide, “I want a new car today,” and by sunset she’s riding off the lot with a brand new vehicle.  She’s decisive and strong; the kind of woman that’s not afraid of risks.  I don’t think she’s afraid of much, so I wonder what the hesitation is about.  Beside the fact that getting a tattoo is a big commitment, I wonder if she maybe apprehensive about the pain.  After all the pain you feel when getting a new car is only felt in your pocketbook and not actually in your body.  Interesting and not so surprising is that her tattoo artist told her that women have a much higher tolerance for pain.  He told her that through their discomfort they’ll carry on conversations and ignore the torture as much as possible.

About a month ago, I met two women in their late 50’s that were toying with the idea of getting tattoos.  They visited a tattoo parlor and watched a young girl getting a tattoo on the top of her foot.  Ouch!  I know what it feels like to just drop something on the top of it; I can’t imagine how painful needles would feel going into the bony part of the foot.  They said the young girl seemed a bit intoxicated and quite relaxed.  She was carrying on a conversation with her friend that was there for moral support and like the tattoo artist indicated because her mind was busy with the day’s gossip, she seemed to tolerate the pain pretty well.  When the two ladies asked her if it hurt, she replied, “Like a son of bitch.”  They looked at each other, walked out and went next door to the ice cream parlor and got themselves double scoops instead.  I’m not sure if they’ve reconsidered their decision, but that night the biggest risk they were willing to take was if that ice cream would end up on their hips or not.  I know that my friend will go through with it and I wish her the best of luck.