This nickle-sized area on my wrist will never be the same.

This post is not so much about roommate adventures as it is about my own personal shenanigans, but I'm jazzed about it so I'm going to share anyway. I don't think BSteer minds.


Warning: This is going to be a long one. I'm pretty excited to chronicle this day. Don't worry, though, because there are lots of pictures.

July 31, 2012, was the 47th birthday of Jo Rowling (author of the Harry Potter books) and the 32nd birthday of the boy wizard himself. I'm a giant Harry Potter fan, having been an avid reader of the books since I was 8, and I knew I needed to do something to celebrate. I dedicated a Facebook status to the pair (thank you, social media), and I considered watching a Harry Potter movie before the day was over.

But then I thought, nah, I'll get a tattoo instead!
   

Jo and Daniel approve!

For the record, I've been wanting a tattoo for ages, and I knew I wanted my first tattoo to be small, simple, and Harry Potter-related. Aside from my family, the Harry Potter books have been the most constant and joy-bringing element of my entire life. After much debate, I had finally made up my mind that I would get the page stars from the American books as my tattoo. What better day to take the plunge than on the birthday of the two people (one real, one fictional-yes, I do know that Harry Potter is fictional) who have been such a big part of my life?

Can you tell I've read this book a lot? The pages used to be white.

So here's what happened. I got all psyched up about the idea of finally getting my tattoo, and I just couldn't let it go. I mentioned to a couple of my far-away friends who also share my love of all things HP that if they were in town, I'd make them go with me to get my tattoo right away. And the idea of going right away just wouldn't leave my head. AND I had unwittingly worn my owl necklace, snitch bracelet, and shirt that has been described as an English tea cup that day. It was obviously meant to be, right!? So I texted my bad ass mother, who recently got her first tattoo, as well, to tell her I was thinking of going that day. And then she offered to go with me. And I said HECK YES!!

On my lunch break I told Brittany, who was thrilled and wanted to come (but not watch, because she has needle-phobia), I called Coon Tattoo in West Point to see if they would take a walk-in that day (they said yes!), and I called my dad to break the news. I was nervous that he'd be angry, but that guy wasn't even phased. I believe his exact words were, "Your mother has one, what am I going to say to you?" Thanks for taking all the umph out of my rebellion being so supportive, Pops.

By then I had to go back to work, but I couldn't. Sit. Still. I was literally vibrating at my desk chair because I was thinking about where I'd be that afternoon and what my wrist would look like and holy cow I'm about to get a tattoo ahhhhhhhh!

So I left work early, called my mom, and she was on her way. Called my roommate, and she was at lunch. Girl's strange hours and bad timing made her miss all the excitement!

In all my exuberance, I tore out of E26, threw myself in my car, bounced in my seat for the whole 20 minutes it took to get to West Point, jumped in my mom's car, and bounced in the passenger seat until we pulled up to the tattoo parlor, all the while saying, "Oh my gosh I'm so excited but I'm so nervous. So excited, but so nervous!"

Excited, but nervous.

I all but ran through the door, hovered by the front desk while I waited for the lady to get off the phone, and restrained my excitement enough to say, "I'm here to get my first tattoo!" (I wanted to say it like this: I'M HERE TO GET MY FIRST TATTOOOOOOO! LET'S DO THIS!!!!)

"Yeah, we can't see you 'til five."

Um... what?

My wrist is so sad and empty.

Apparently another walk-in had arrived just before me, and his tattoo was going to take a while. My exuberance left me like air from an untied balloon (so not all slow and calm like a leak, but quickly and making noises akin to latex flatulence). My mom said she didn't mind killing an hour and a half in downtown West Point, so we went and wandered around patiently (i.e. with me being antsy and jittery like I'd just had a large coffee on an empty stomach) until about 4:50. This worked out pretty well for my mom, because she got to learn how to knit.

Making a wash cloth like a BOSS.

But finally it was time, and we headed back to Coon's, and I waited for a few minutes, and another tattoo artist, Johnny, had just arrived for his shift. He had this really soft-spoken voice, so when he first greeted me, I wasn't sure if he said, "What can I do for you?" or "What are you doing standing so close to my desk?" I figured I could answer both questions by saying "I'm here for my first tattoo!" That seemed to be an appropriate response, because then he started asking me questions like, "What do you want, and where?" so I figured we were on the right track. I whipped out my copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, flipped to a random page, and pointed to the upper left page stars.

"I want this, on my wrist." He looked at me like I was crazy. Then I realized those page stars could be covered up by a pinkie nail. "Oh, but bigger."

He seemed slightly more satisfied, took my book, and scanned the page. He blew up the stars about four times their normal size and held it up to my wrist. Y'all, it was perfect. I started vibrating again.

Johnny went back to prepare the room and I just kind of bounced around smiling at my mom while she finished watching the Olympic swim team's cover of Call Me Maybe on my phone.

Missy Franklin, you are too adorable.

Johnny came back to the front of the shop to get us, and we followed him back to his room. I tried not to look at all of the pictures of naked chicks plastered to his walls (don't hate, I'm still a tattoo newbie and was very much out of my comfort zone; some other girl's boobs weren't exactly the thing to make me feel comfortable). I got Momma to take pictures while Johnny prepped my wrist and warned me to stay very, very still (which of course made me want to vibrate even more, but somehow I restrained myself). He transferred the copy to my wrist, taped the design to the bar so he could be certain to get the lines right, and went to work.

My mom took her job very seriously.

Both Johnny and my mom told me the needle would hurt, but that it would be more irritating than painful. At first they were right, but then that thing started to hurt like a jerk. I was petrified of moving, though, and also I wanted to seem tough, so I didn't say anything. And the whole process from start to finish took maybe three minutes. The tattooing itself probably took about a minute. After all, it's a pretty tiny design. When he finished, I compared the copy from the book to the copy on my wrist, and you guys, it's pretty spot on. Considering how tiny these lines are, I'm really impressed by Johnny. He was a trouper and put up with all my excitement and nerdiness and girl-who-doesn't-belong-in-a-tattoo-shop-ness and even posed for a picture.

I'm sure I'm his favorite customer now.

And then I had a tattoo! And since the needle had been put away, I went back to vibrating and bouncing all over the place because I FINALLY HAD A TATTOO!!!

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

 I'm going to pose for all of my pictures like this now.

How cute is my mom? So glad she came with me!

And then I texted a whole bunch of people. And I put it on Facebook. And I kept talking about it to anyone who would listen. And every time I look at it, I get really, really excited.

Casual and not awkward at all.

Happy birthday, Harry and Jo! Thanks for inspiring my first tattoo!