One time a Lululemon bag told me to do one thing a day that scares me.
I’m not one to challenge authority, so last week I did that. I got a tattoo. Not an airbrush four leaf clover like the one I got at post prom in 2015, but a real permanent thing with a needle and ink. I don’t want to mislead you, dear reader, into thinking I am spontaneous or tough. Quite the opposite. I have been talking about this tattoo for 5 years, and a few weeks ago I caught a football weird and my left middle finger sometimes hurts when I move it. What I’m saying is, my 2 hour Israeli martial arts class in 7th grade hebrew school did not pay off and I would not place money on me in a fight.
I’m just going to tell you about my experience getting a tattoo, in the hopes that it may inspire you to do something you’ve been thinking about for 5 years. Except if the thing you’re thinking about is buying a Slap Chop as seen on TV. Literally buy a knife.
November 13- I sent an email to the tattoo place I found through my friend Molly, inquiring about a tattoo of a carrot. This was an incredibly easy first step because it required no commitment. Sort of like buying a box of arugula so you can “throw together” quick salads during the week.
November 17- I put down the deposit. This was by definition a commitment. Regardless of if I went or not, I would lose money. I could think of it as a donation to the local art scene of SoHo if I paid and didn’t show but that wasn’t my plan. Advice for anyone thinking of doing anything- pay for it first. Too lazy to cook? Pay for hello fresh. Too hesitant to work out? Pay for a ClassPass. Wanna kill something but too lazy to plan a murder? Buy a plant.
Some time in the middle of the night on November 18th- I had a horrible nightmare that I went to get the tattoo and fell asleep during it and woke up with a full sleeve that I didn’t ask for. In the dream my tattoo sleeve had pictures of old friends, song lyrics- it was essentially my tumblr page from early high school. I woke up in a cold sweat, and felt scared. When you do something that scares you, you’re bound to uh, be scared. I’ve never permanently altered before! Except for the scar on my leg from the first time I shaved when I moved the razor backwards.
December 10- Tattoo day. I spent all day at work on edge. Nobody there knows me well yet, and because of Covid we don’t hang out during the day, so I just sat in the accounting office alone stress-eating Cool Ranch Doritos.
7:30pm-I arrive at the tattoo studio. Parlor? Place? All knowledge of semantics leaves my brain as I enter the slate gray waiting room. The lobby looks like if you just got abducted into a UFO and you’re in the foyer of the space craft. It looks like a place where someone would hand you a soylent and a cigarette and tell you your combat boots are cool. On the front desk it reads “engrave your faith.” I am here to get a root vegetable inked into my arm, so I think I sort of missed their memo. Post Malone is blasting, and the receptionist with blue hair hands me industrial grade hand sanitizer. I’m home.
*I sat in the waiting room by myself for about an hour. At one point I left to go get cash from the nearby ATM. I put my debit card in backwards on the first attempt and it got stuck. This was a moment where I pretended there was some divine intervention happening trying to prevent me from getting this tattoo. Eventually the machine gave me my card back, I tried again, and took my cash back to the mothership.*
When Ariel came out to the lobby to get me, I let out a sigh of relief. She was so kind, patient, and talked me through all my fears. Then she drew a carrot on an iPad and we walked back to her station.
The actual experience of getting the tattoo did not hurt. My tattoo is small and was done with a single needle so that part wasn’t surprising. I instinctively looked away because that’s what I do when I get flu shots, but slowly I started to watch the needle move. Once the first line was drawn, I could relax into the reality of the situation. The truth is, tattoos aren’t a big deal at all. Many people have them for many reasons. Some people regret them and some people make them their whole personality (I’m looking at you, Sir. Peter Davidson.)
So, I encourage you to do one thing a day that scares you. And tell me about it! I want to hear about how we’re challenging ourselves in an otherwise easy and chill year. When I look at my carrot I will remember that it sometimes takes me 5 years to come to a conclusion, and that’s ok.