Here I was, sitting in Dibildox\u2019s kitchen, which was prepped for tatting. Paper towels, rubbing alcohol and her sketchbook were ready to go. She washed her hands and opened the pack of carpet needles. They\u2019re thicker than the traditional sewing needle, but easier for her to grip. \u201cThey\u2019re all new needles, by the way,\u201d Dibildox said. The needles she used earlier on were shared \u2013 with consent, of course.<\/p>\n

We chatted through the design I was hoping for, and she drew it out, making sure we were in agreement on size and placement. Then she poured the new, nontoxic India ink into a stainless steel bowl. She showed me the needle, clarifying that just \u201ca tiny bit\u201d of the tip actually punctures\u2014just enough to get the ink under the skin.<\/p>\n

Feeling like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, I considered walking out. But my thoughts of escape were foiled when I felt the first poke. \u201cI usually feel a little bit of a pop when it goes through the skin,\u201d Dibildox said.<\/p>\n

I felt the sting \u2013 there was no going back now. \u201cHow does that feel?\u201d Dibildox asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot bad,\u201d I responded.<\/p>\n

Surprisingly the first few pokes were actually fine. They simply felt like the poke from a thorny garden thistle. It was a quick sensation. The discomfort didn\u2019t throb or linger. But the fleshier the area, the more painful it got. \u201cOK, OK, I feel that,\u201d I found myself saying more frequently as the minutes passed by.<\/p>\n

Dibildox was humming along, and besides occasionally brushing back her black hair falling out of her half ponytail, her brown eyes almost never lost focus on my side.<\/p>\n

Although the poking and prodding was extensive, time seemed to pass quickly as the second half of my heart was stitched into place. Maybe it was because I was learning to cope with the incessant stabs, or maybe it was because I saw that the end was near.<\/span>
\n<\/span>
\n<\/span>Dibildox\u2019s hands, covered in black ink, continued to poke. Swipe. Poke. Swipe. At this point, her mom was back from work, prepping dinner for the evening just a few feet away from our tattoo set-up. Dibildox and I took a quick orange and poppy seed muffin break before finishing up, and by 3:30 in the afternoon, my arms were tired from holding them up for the entire process. But finally, after two hours, my ink was complete. <\/span>
\n<\/span>
\n<\/span>On my drive home, I felt no discomfort. In fact, by the next morning, my skin wasn\u2019t irritated at all. Dibildox told me she\u2019d be interested in another tattoo session soon. I didn\u2019t die from infection, nor did I pass out from the pain.<\/span>
\n<\/span>
\n<\/span>I might just have to take her up on the offer.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

For once, ditching the (tattoo) gun isn\u2019t political.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6679,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n