A Book of Rogues and Imposters

If nothing else it's going to be a while yet before I run out of fascially linked compensation patterns and nerve referral pain lines. =P

I'm still not sure what I want to put near my shoulder, but the hip ideas are--very slowly--starting to come together. At least in part by discovering Sky at L'Art du Point in goddamned Belgium, who does lovely negative-space dotwork designs.

Seriously. Annoyingly lovely. I don’t have the money (or the French) to track a tattoo studio and artist down in Bruxelles. But ooooh.

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So, back at the beginning of the month, I got a new tattoo.

It's not very subtle. (Someone remind me to get pics now that my skin's no longer shiny with ointment)

For reference, I got it on a Saturday. Two days later (the Monday), I had a specialist physio appointment.

No comments. I couldn't decide if she was being polite or oblivious.

The Wednesday, one of my pilates classmates asked and admired, and I talked briefly with my teacher about it.

The Thursday, I showed off for one of the front desk girls at my usual physio's office, and my physio and I had a rather happy conversation about how well I'd taken the appointment.

After that, there really hasn't been much in the way of comments, aside from showing off for extended family--we established that the last time Veggie and I'd been on Whidbey for the American Thanksgiving meal was 2006, because I didn't have the bougainvillea ink the last time the Aunts'd seen me--and the usual questions about adding colour to the bougainvillea.

Which is a forgivable question these days, what with the chicory, but still funny.

This Monday, three weeks after getting the tattoo, my specialist physio actually asked if I'd gotten colour added. As did her undergraduate minion*, and they were both quite startled to hear that no, I hadn't added colour so much as a new tattoo.

Apparently what it took for them to notice was wearing a bright blue tanktop that made the flowers pop a bit more than usual. *laughing*


*: Undergraduate minion is observing/working in a physio office, but is not allowed to touch/treat patients. Which is perfectly sensible given the girl's something like twenty and doesn't have either the master's or the phD to hang on a wall yet.

Pics tomorrow, you lot--artist didn't have any unscented lotion so I'll need to grab some, and I've got a bandage on for overnight.

If you're curious, the first test design was this.

:) Night, all.

So I haven't posted since the 11th of April.

In large part this is directly related to various offline things happening, including what would have been, previous to this year, a truly gnarly flare. (sing the praises of nerve medications, lo)

Suffice to summarise that my body decided to have a Warranty Expired week plus. My physiotherapists were both going O.o; o.O;;; when I saw 'em Thursday.

It's calmed down some now, just in time for the early stages of a streaming cold. Certain root vegetables are regularly inquiring as to whether I've misplaced a bridge and some fog.

My joy face. But that's not actually the body of this post!

Well, it could be, but I wanted to remember something else. I was up in Vancouver this weekend, and yesterday coastal_physics and I went out to a late brunch with his parents. It was a lovely day, so I was in half-sleeves and there was a line, but we were seated in relatively short order.

Our waitress introduced herself to our table by bouncing down on the bench right next to me and touching my left tattoo (yes, the one in the icon).

Fortunately for all involved it was the section down by my wrist and not very hard, and I doubt she had any idea I was anything but friendly and showing off my ink in response to her interest. I even managed to ask about hers as she was bouncing away ('happy' in Thai down the inside of her left forearm and something I'm remembering as 'all for one' and 'one for all' in English on either side of her right wrist).

While not exactly thrilled with this turn of events, some people are just like this--I'm not going to write off a restaurant for that alone. (Actually, given Very Particular circumstances this sort of friendly behaviour in waitstaff can be a selling point--though I'd warn people before taking them there)

The coffee was slightly glorious, and the food was decent--apparently the truffled hash is Delicious--but I wouldn't recommend this place.

Y'see, our over-friendly waitress kinda forgot to come back and get our food orders. Three parties seated after us got their food and left before we even got to order. =\

Tae's Random List of Things You Should Consider About Tattoos*:

Can your tattoo be covered by clothing appropriate to a corporate environment? A casual environment? (Is your ink going to restrict you to particular styles of clothing, and/or hair-length/style if you want to hide it?)

Can your tattoo be seen if you are clothed in formalwear? (for example, getting married, or attending the opera) If so, does it function as an accessory?
Does it look Silly? (example: black widow spider on the back, on a woman in a backless wedding dress.)

How is your tattoo visually balanced on your body? Is the balance also visible when you are clothed in your general style? (a Japanese-style full arm sleeve with shoulder shield looks incredibly out of balance when it's the major cohesive ink on a body. I promise.)

If you have more than one tattoo: is there any cohesion to style and design? If so, is it still visible at a distance? (or do you look like you have somewhat malformed large moles scattered across your arms and shoulders?)

Skin loosens with age, and ink fades in time. Will your tattoo look, if not as beautiful as when you got it, at least reasonably good, when you're sixty?

If you are female: are you capable of getting pregnant (or, for that matter, actively planning for this)? If yes, consider what shape your tattoo may take if your skin stretches. Consider also that your skin might not spring back to your pre-pregnancy shape.


Tae's personal quirk: I wanna see my decoration, thanks. >.> I've actually taken to wearing half-sleeved shirts so I can see. This gives me considerable trouble when I am pondering additional designs.


*: this thought brought to you by wandering around Getty Images for the hell of it.

I desire a grapefruit spoon and a really sharp fork*. As these are lacking, I go forth to visit my father, bearing gift, and will possibly pick a rather impressive fight by not wearing long sleeves.

A toast to fathers, my dears. May their flailing be entertaining.



*: then at least my uterus and my left elbow would have externally obvious reasons to be pissed off at me. =P