Ink High

Every time I get tattoo work done, I come home feeling jazzed! Giddy-like! I don't know what it is, but I feel elated and talkative. Maybe it's having been through a battle of sorts; a mind-over-pain battle though many people with a lot of tattoos say that they enjoy that feeling, the carving and the scraping. I'm one of those people. There are parts of the body that are definitely more sensitive and painful and when those areas are being worked on it's a white-knuckle moment, but usually when I get into a zone, my skin numbs itself and I can withstand hours under the needle. When I hear the buzz of the gun, I soak it in. The high-pitched rattle gets my motor going, and I enjoy the entire process. By the time the session is done, I'm ecstatic; I can hardly contain myself.

I just came home from the Pomona Tattoo Expo, the show I've been going to for years. I got the last of my back done by my man Tim McEvoy and I'm high as a natural kite right now. It's finished! My back is finished. Here's the main thing I had done today, the apple. I can't take how much I love it. The artists complain that this expo has gone down hill in terms of the overall quality of artists and the crowd, but I still love it. Here's the thing, you can saunter up and down the many aisles and see the most intimidating characters from every culture, but when you smile at them or talk to them they soften and smile back. They gladly engage in conversation. They are always nice to the kids, with mine or anyone's. And it's the only time you can stare unabashedly at a guy with a full-face tattoo.

Here's my girl Jinxi. She gets all of her work done at the same shop I do, but with a different artist. I met her about five years ago. And I'm not lying when I say she's the nicest person I've ever met in my entire life. She exudes generosity and warmth. She's a mother of three, volunteers, is obsessed with cupcakes and dotes on anyone who will come within touching distance. Oh and she also has an octopus tattooed on her throat, various things tatt'ed on her head and full arm and leg sleeves. I think she's really beautiful and mainly because she glows from the inside. I love Jinxi!Jinxi got a cupcake tattooed on her hand today. It may be her fourth. This one's the best though.I had to add this goofy picture of us too only because it caught the guy in the back who has almost his entire body done by Jinxi's artist. They are portraits of his family, many of his wife, many of his kids, that guy Jesus in the middle there and he just had his own hands tattooed on his belly as a symbol that he gladly holds his family up when he needs to. It also looks to me like a pose of sheer devotion and surrender. He's another one as nice as can be and he practically chokes up when talking about his wife and kids.You know what I've learned after so many hours of being at tattoo shows and at the shop, is that these artists gossip and complain and share and shoot the shit like any other person at a job. I mean, obviously, but it's pretty funny to witness a bunch of big tough-guy tattoo artists sitting together philosophizing about relationships. Some are just looking for a good girl, a nice healthy relationship. One bitter guy who's been hurt advises them to sleep around. They'll then talk about what works with women and what doesn't. The gentlest advice came from a guy with some sort of scribble-scrabble tat on his head and a small diamond under his right eye. He whipped out his phone to share pictures of his newborn son, his third. OH, it's the best kind of eavesdropping. Here are some other conversations heard and had today.

*An artist from the next booth asked to see my butterfly and asked me what I was getting done today. Almost his entire face was tatt'ed. He had tribal lighting bolt designs down his cheeks and around his nose; he had like a word moustache that read "SOUTH SIDE" above his lip. I told him what I was getting done after showing him my back. Then he said, "I'm such a pussy about getting tattoos now." We laughed, but he was serious.

*A guy with cheek-bone piercings and a spider web on his neck came into our booth while I was getting worked on and started talking to the artist named Big Gus next to us. The pierced guy was complaining that these other artists were trying to take his shop down; they were talking shit on him and his shop behind his back. Big Gus said, "It's a compliment, dog. If your shop wasn't shit, they wouldn't be trying to take you down, bro." The pierced guy said, "I'm going to sit down with these guys and just fucking tell them that it hurts my feelings that they're talking about me like that." I looked over. His finger was curled over his lip. I wanted to hug the guy.

*Big Gus' "old lady" gave birth to their first baby daughter four months ago. My artist Tim told Big Gus that his daughter Sailor is now five years old. (Sailor!) Big Gus said, "It just makes you more homesick and shit, right, dog? I mean, fuck, I miss that little girl all day long." Then Tim talked about how Sailor is at an age where she can call him at shop and he loves that, but when he hangs up the phone, he just wants to go home and see her. Big lugs!

*A couple came over to our booth to talk to another artist Chris. The guy was huge and was wearing a Phoenix Suns basketball jersey and straight-billed cap. He had a collection of mish-moshed tattoos, all faded and old. They looked home-done. His lady had a worn and pretty face, dense-black hair curled softly and pulled back at the sides. She was big and a bit beat-up looking. She carried a beer. The artist Chris said, "Hey girl, the last time I saw you, you were wasted!" She said, "Oh man, I was? I'm always wasted." Chris said, "You were all 'I love you guys'. You were at the I Love You Stage of being wasted!" They laughed. She said, "Oh man, I'm sorry!" Then she turned her attention quickly to the t-shirts hanging in the booth. "Babe! We should get that fucking t-shirt for Chai (their son). Wouldn't he shit himself over that t-shirt?" They got the t-shirt, cradling it as they staggered off.

*On the stage at the front of the expo they were announcing a contest to judge the best female butt at the show. I said to the guys in the booth, "Will they have a contest for best guy butt next?" They shook their head no then Chris said, "Yea, why don't they? I'd go up there and pull down my pants, put one hand in the air and dance it out." I said, "Hmm, maybe that's why they don't let men up there."

*Many passerbyers looked at the apple and speculated on what it meant. "You're from New York!" No. "Are you a teacher?" No. "Oh snap, are you Eve? The apple is for temptation, right?" No. I told them that it was because I was vegan and because fruits and vegetables are the best! And they yelled, "Right On!"

When the apple was done, I hugged Tim and said, "Wow, Tim, I love it so much. I think you should start dreaming up an all fruit and vegetable sleeve for me." His eyes lit up and said, "I'm so down for that." Then he and his wife Roxanne started to plan it out. I didn't have the heart to tell them I was just kidding. Though it's not that bad of any idea.

Here's Tim, Roxanne and me. The giddiness was starting to kick in, if you can't see it all over my face.

Meaningful Tattoos

If you have ever struggled with your body image and need examples of how to feel good about yourself no matter your size or physical situation, I suggest you immediately visit a Tattoo Expo. This is three days of unabashed, uninhibited, freak fun where all walks of life are unafraid to literally expose themselves and their art. Kind of like a tamer Real Sex episode. And the best part of a Tattoo Expo is that staring is welcomed. Any group that stereotypically is linked to tattoos is represented. And random types that you would never consider as tattoo lovers are there too. Everyone is there. It's a rainbow coalition of body ink and piercing. Within the confines and comfort of an expo, the body is simply a canvas no matter how round, bony, caved-in, curvy or rippley you are; a canvas to be turned into thoughtful, beautiful art or apparently a walking altar for Satan. The canvases, whether XXXL or XXS, whether adorned with a headless baby tattoo or a Hello Kitty symbol all share a I-Love-What-I've-Done-With-This-Don't-You vibe. It's actually refreshing to be surrounded by that much confidence, and interestingly, flaws become less apparent when someone just struts their shit through a crowded convention center.



What's up.




Uncle Marty?









All of us that have been tattooed are bonded by certain similarities: We have endured the pain of the needle; we share the need to express our creativity through permanently marking ourselves up; and most importantly, we have carved into our skin symbols that are personally very meaningful and significant.






Or not . . .
















I talked to one tattoo artist at the Pomona Body Art Expo that my husband and I went to yesterday. The artist had turned away a big guy looking to get the San Francisco 49'ers symbol on his arm. I said, "Why didn't I think of that? The 49'ers!" He said, "You wouldn't believe how many corporate logos I've done." I said, "What, like Starbucks?" "Done it," he said. "COME ON!" I yelled at him. He proceeded to tell me all the companies he's branded on people including a ton of car logos, motorbike part companies, Apple Computer and even Loew's. As in all "art", there is mostly bad, some good and a couple brilliant ones. It is exactly the case at a tattoo festival too. And there are usually themes that run though certain generations and cultures. The old bikers get the lone wolf with the moon and the american flag draped around an eagle ("These colors don't run", but they do fade after a few years if not properly cared for). The chicanos get the great Azteca calendar and that one picture of the warrior holding up his dead, gorgeous princess on a cliff. The more gangsta dudes have sets and shout outs on their face and throats. The swinger group have the cherries and pin up girls and nautical stars. Then there's the goth kids that would tattoo their teeth black if that would take. And everyone dips into the asian-themed tattoos. I just read an article about a kid in England that got chinese characters on his arm that he believed meant, "Honor, Truth, Love" and after every chinese-speaking person laughed after seeing the tattoo, he found out it really meant, "At the end of the day, this is still an ugly boy." Whoa - he got punk'ed asian style. The most beautiful piece I saw all day was on a lean Asian woman I called The Fitness Instructor that had a full-back piece that curved to her body. It was a super detailed, fantastically colored geisha that stood in a lotus-filled creek with an umbrella. Jaw-dropping.

I got something new yesterday. As with all my tattoos, the new ones have a lot of personal meaning. But these new ones have more corny significance than the others, and because I'm not big on the inspirational card/emails/sayings I'm a little embarrassed to say it out loud. Which is why I'm telling the internet. I think all symbols have corny significance which I don't think is a bad thing. I think something that inspires and reminds you of commitments and dedications is ok with me. Like a wedding ring. Like a religious icon. Like the roses I got tattooed on the tops of my feet yesterday. I figured I would tattoo things that that symbolize what holds the highest priority for me; dedication to my health and dedication to my family. With peak health I'm can do anything. And my family only means --everything to me. My health takes care of me physically and my family takes care of me emotionally. Yellow/orange rose on the top of one foot; peachy/pink rose on top of the other foot. Heart & Soul.

While getting tattoos, spectators love to browse by and ask, "Does it hurt?" Which is an obvious question, but as my tattoo artist Tim McVoy loves to comment, I get tattoos in the most painful spots. He was not kidding. The tops of the feet. . . WOW, rough. So, when people asked, "Does it hurt?" I yelped out, "Like a motherfucker," which is ok to shout out at a tattoo expo. I said, "like a motherfucker" forty-eight times. Made me feel better. One classic couple came by and talked to me for a bit. He was a good looking guy with light brown skin and round pool-blue eyes in his mid twenties and she was a slightly haggard biker chick in her late thirties that in quick, certain angles still held a bit of hotness -- though not according to my husband. She was nearly six feet tall, waist-long yellow hair; a big girl in a jean mini and a low, white halter that barely contained humongous boobs. My husband ran to me before they came over and said, "One nipple is pointing straight down and one is pointing at a right angle." I couldn't get over how they were trying so hard to escape her top. When the couple stood over me, the guy grimaced every time the needle grinded over my foot bones. And the lady told me that her tattoo -- a hideous train of botched hibiscus on her lower back -- hurt more than having kids. I said, "Really?" She said, "And I didn't have no drugs having kids." And the guy said, "And she's had six of them." I asked, "Tattoos?" And she said, "No, kids." And in our minds, I know Husband and I were both yelling, "DDAAMMNN." She said, "Yeah, my 19 year old is thinking about getting her first tattoo." She looked at me. And this is a critical moment between two women. When one looks haggard (but she doesn't think so but suspects that I do) and she's put it out there that she has a 19 year old daughter when, though she looks like she's been ridden way hard (though her man obviously is loving him some of that), she's still too young to have a 19 year old . . . and she's waiting for my response. And I give it up because after six kids, she deserves that; women in general deserve that. I don't have a beef with her fishing from me and I am actually touched by her insecurity masked as confidence. I said, "You must've started WAY young, girl." She was relieved and answered with coy, rehearsed shyness, "Yeah." Then a tiny three year popped out from behind her with the guy's exact eyes, and I said, "Wow, your baby is really beautiful." Again, she enjoyed the compliment. And I was glad to boost a sister up as my feet were meaningfully getting razor bladed like a motherfucker.