Stencil

The stencil I chose is a tattoo gun. Growing up I loved seeing tattoo work on my family and I couldn't wait until I was able to get one of my own. I begged my mother to let me get one before I was 18 but she wouldn't budge. Finally, three months after turning 18, and getting approval from her and the rest of my family I was able to get my first tattoo. I was extremely excited when I got on that cold chair and saw the stencil of my tattoo drying on my body. My tattoo artist was a scary looking guy and my family did not prepare me for the amount of pain that that little needle was going to cause. The vibration of the needle was music to my ears, I felt my body wanting to shiver, but I was afraid of moving and potentially ruining the artwork. I was extremely nervous and very uncomfortable. I felt like the needle wasn't moving in a pattern, it felt like it was just going deeper and deeper into my skin. When I had to get up to use the bathroom my ribs were sore, even breathing hurt. I did not want to go back to that chair, the chair that I was tortured on for two hours already. My mother was sitting there patiently, ready to scold me if I stopped the session right there. I dragged my feet back and sat on that chair for another two hours and got through the night. I was crying at the end of it but everyone was very proud of me, and I was very confused about how I was feeling, I was just praised for getting through pain? I loved my tattoo, there was so much detail and I couldn't believe a needle was able to do that. And I couldn't believe my tattoo Artist was able to do that because when you think of art his image isn't the first thing that pops in your head, but now I know art has no image. It was truly an amazing experience and that's why I now have five.