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My husband and I had been married for a few years when he asked me if I would consider getting a tattoo. He said that he found tattoos on women very attractive and sexy, and after a lot of thought I decided to get one. I will spare the decision-making details now since it i already posted them here:

http://www.lastsparrowtattoo.com/forum/general-tattoo-discussion/546-relationships-tattoos-page32.html#post72275

I decided I wanted a peony on the front of my hip. Although I was happy to get the tattoo, I considered it very private. I was uncomfortable about getting anything that might show, so I picked a location where it would never be visible in public (accept maybe in the locker room at the gym, where I planned, of course, to go to great lengths and convolutions to keep it covered).

The day arrived and I showed the artist my idea. He suggested adding some background to peony - some cherry blossoms, foliage, and decorative elements to give it a Japanese style. That made it much bigger than I had planned - It would be about 4" x 6", which I thought was gigantic at the time! I almost said no because I wanted to keep it small, but it did look much better with the added portions so I said, "Go for it." Part of it was over a bone, and the artist warned me that it might be more painful in that area.

I remember staring intensely at the needle as he was ready to make the first line, and I prepared for the feeling of the needle because I wanted to have a vivid memory of the moment that my skin was changed forever. The needle first touched in a soft area, and the pain was not as bad as I expected, and as he worked for the first few minutes, I thought that this was going to be pretty easy. Then he started working over a bone, and OW! The pain was indeed pretty intense there. But except for the flashes of pain over the bone, the experience was not that bad.

It took about an hour to complete, maybe longer, but I'm really not sure how long it took because I was concentrating so much on what the artist was doing. This was going to be my only tattoo and I saw it as a pretty important life event, so I wanted to mentally absorb every aspect of the experience. About halfway through the session, even the pain over the bone started to melt away, and I started to feel a little euphoric, and I was almost enjoying the feeling. As I watched him add the color, the tattoo began to take a recognizable form, and I started to realize that it was very beautiful - even more so than I had ever imagined. I was glad that we made it bigger than I originally planned. It started to hit me - "It's part of me. I'm tattooed, There's no turning back." I was so glad I had decided to get it - I was almost giddy.

When he finished I looked in the mirror, and I was nearly speechless. I remember saying "Oh Wow...Oh Wow! Its so beautiful!" over and over. I loved it, and I was so proud of myself!

Afterwards we went to a restaurant and and as we ate, I was floating. I was just babbling on and on about how much I loved it, how happy I was that I decided to get it, and how glad I was that he had suggested it, and how pretty it was, and how realistic it looked, and how the pain really wasn't that bad, and how I liked the colors, and how I wondered how the girls at the gym would react, and on, and on, and on... finally when I ran out of breath and words, I blurted out, "I want to get another one!"

That was how I got started! At the beginning of that day I thought I was getting my first and only tattoo. I could have never imagined that I would someday have half sleeves and several tattoos. I'm at eight and counting, and have big plans for much more coverage.

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It was 1985, I was 17 and my best mate Dave (RIP) came around home to show me his new tattoo, a Chinese black and grey dragon he had tattooed on his arm. I was like, fuck! ya should have told me mate, I would have got tattooed with ya. So with that, off we went to High Energy Tattoo in the valley. I was nervous as fuck, a biker run no bullshit shop. I think I was more nervous about saying or doing the wrong thing than the tattoo itself. When I walked in, it was funny, I instantly felt at home and knew this was the beggining of something that I had always wanted.

Dave took the chair to have his second tattoo done. A couple of hours later it was my turn. Sitting there holding the album cover to "The Day The Country Died"

I've had a few tattoos covered from the early days, and some better than this one, but would never even think about losing this. It was the beginning of it all.

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It was 2 weeks after I turned 18 in '99. My mum took me to a shop attached to a flea market. I got 2 kanji characters on my lower back that were meant to say crazy but actually say arrogant..no surprise there.

I've had a few laser treatments on it and it's getting covered, along with a couple others, when I do my full back next year.

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

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Wish I had a great first tattoo story! It was a great experience, and I worked with a fantastic tattoo artist and got a tattoo that I adore - it felt like it had always been there. I'm grateful that he wanted to work with me at all, and that he still is willing to work with me.

@Mick Weder - you could write a book about your tattoos, I'd read it!!!

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My first semester at college in Ohio I got homesick for NJ. So I got my area code tattooed in my lip. Kinda dumb but luckily it's in my mouth so I forget it's even there

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On my 18th B-Day my mom ask me what I wanted for my bday and I said.. "a tattoo"... So my mom and my older brother took me to get my first tattoo. A dragon on my arm.

I was nervous but excited.... Heard the machine go off and bam! the rest is history! It was awesome.

16yrs later I still get nervous and excited... and now I am 8 Tattoos in :D

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Told my parents I wanted a tattoo for my 18th Birthday. They agreed but told me that was the only one I was allowed to get. I did no research on artists and ended up going to the Pennsauken Flea Market. I don't remember if the guy wore gloves. Probably not since he was tattooing out of a 8' x 8' cubicle with two chairs and some flash taped to the walls. I got a marlin on my back, the size of my hand, cost me 125 plus a ten dollar tip. I went back two weeks later and got a flower/flame design on my upper thigh, that cost 40 bucks. I was hooked.

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I may have posted this elsewhere here. I was 22 and married for about a year. I had a few things in mind and wound up at S&W Tattoo in Amityville, NY on a Saturday evening. I was with my wife and we selected one off the wall, 2 hearts with a banner and arrow through them (or course with our names in the banner... the kiss of death for sure..).

It came out real nice and the colors were good. Fast forward to when I was 23.. maybe 15 months after the OG job. I haggled with Stanley to black-out my ex-wife's name. He wanted $6, I offered $4 and he took it. I'll have to see if someone has a picture of it, now it's 2 layers down in cover ups.

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I was 14 and on holiday in Spain. I forgot the name of the studio, it was somewhere in Alicante. Just went in there, chose a design from the book (a 2" red rose) and got it on my shoulder. Since I didn't speak Spanish I had no idea about the aftercare. The guy didn't even ask for my ID.

It's covered now, with a huge piece which is even worse (because I did that when I was 18 and super smart, like everyone that age).

The next was at the age of fifteen, a tribal on my stomach that I drew by myself. It wasn't until a few years later when someone pointed out that it has a swirl in the middle which looks like a pretzel.. Yeah well, pretzel-belly. I lasered it several times to get it covered, but until now I have no idea with what to cover a stupid tribal going across my belly -.-

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I was eighteen when I made myself a tattoo on my skin. At that time i tattooing about year and think that it is not good when tattooartist havn't tattoo. But it was make badly and i don't cover up this now because i'm lazy to do pictire for this.

Since then, I believe that to do the tattoo itself is a bad idea. And all the following items tattoos I have done other colleagues.

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Man, where to begin. I knew nothing about getting tattooed, or even which shops around our area were good. Luckily my gf had a friend who was getting a lot of work done at a shop called freaks, so I dropped in and asked around. Got set up with an awesome artist, and four tattoos later, the rest is history!

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Got into the game pretty late. I turned 30 in 2014, ended a long term relationship with a GF who was virulently anti-tattoo, and finally got the Neverending Story tattoo I'd been thinking of for years. Got setup through a friend from work and the dude is awesome. In the process of filling out a half sleeve of sci fi/fantasy magickness with some family stuff thrown in.

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I was 9 when my grandfather past away. He was my hero and he really ment a lot to me. The last thing he said to me on the day he died was "I hope you always find a reason to smile". When I turned 16 and my parents agreed on having a tattoo I decided to place that sentence on the inside of my upper arm. So now I always have a reminder on my grandfather. It was my first tattoo and it definitely won't be my last. But it will be the most important one to me. Because my grandpa made me to who I am today. He was a really wise man and died way to young. But I'll never forget him

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1979...I was 12, bored-sitting around with my older friends (15-16 y/o) who were smoking hash and doing hand pokes. I was dared to get marked by one of these role models, so not to look like wuss...I said "hell yeah".

ended up getting "OZZY" on my knuckles (even though I knew Iommi was the man...duh, it wouldn't work)...it hurt like hell and I smoked so much harsh afterwards, I nearly threw up.

my mom saw it few days later as 2 knuckles got infected and was pissed. she tried to scrub the infection and the marks right outta my skin but to no avail. For awhile, I was the baddest 7th grader in my school.

GOOD TIMES!!!

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My friends had convinced me to go out, I wasn't up to it because I had a busy evening the next day and an essay to do but i'm easy enough to persuade so I found myself in corp (club in sheffield).

Now corp isn't really a place you need to predrink for because blue pints will have you off your face after about 3/4 drinks (and they're like £2.40 a pop before midnight), however I'd had like a glass of peach schnapps/lemonade before i'd come out

anyway we got in around half 12/1 and I'd got my drink, had drunk about 1/2 and was just waiting for a friend to come back from getting his second. I'll add now i drink incredibly slowly too. ANyway I was st down and decided to open instagram, I was scrolling through and I notice that Antony had posted he had a cancellation the same day at 12pm (it was now like about 20 to 2)

so me being hyped up and tipsy not drunk) enough to think that getting to London for 12 on no sleep was a fantastic idea, emailed to see if anyone had taken the cancellation.

To my surprise they hadn't, so i sent over 1/2 ideas, he was like "i can do the cat". So I told my friend when he got back that I needed to go because tattoo but i'd stay and finish my drink.

Luckily I didn't need to because someone knocked it into me as i was walking into another room.

So yeah my friend found his other friends and I went home and proceeded to drink an insane ammout of water because I know that you're not meant t drink before getting tattoo'd so I assumed if I drank enough it'd flush the small ammount alcohol out of my system or help at least.

Anyway got to london on no sleep or food (10/10 would not recommened) and had the linework and black shading done and then came back a month later to get the colour added

the second sessions I was more prepared and stayed at a friends in London but I was too excited about having it finished so I didn't sleep that time either and even though I ate, 3 bag of crisps are apparently not a substantial meal and i've learnt from my 2nd one that eating a shit ton of pasta beforehand really helps with the pain.

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All folk on my maternal grandmother's side were gypsies who traveled pre-WW1 Europe chasing the fruit/vegetable harvests and telling tarot cards to make a living. Always on the road they carried their stories/possessions on their skin instead of in their homes (they had none).

Fast-forward to the '80s and me growing up among these faded blue-grey tattoos of my landlocked relatives. At funerals/weddings/weekends, some showed their tattoos and told the toddler me: when I died St Peter would ask to prove ID at The Gates; while the plainskins patted down their now-nude bodies for proof of who they were, my kinfolk told me, they - the gypsies - only needed to point to their tattoos and stroll smiling right in through Heaven's doors.

For a decade the thought of dying plain and ID-less terrified me so much that finally as a (young) teenager I blagged an older cousin's driver's license, faked my way into the town's only tattoo parlour and got my first tattoo.

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After going through a break up, I ended up spending a few weeks on my friend's sofa while I figured a new living situation. During that time, I was already signed up for my office's "lunch club" where our staff all pays one person to make a lunch that was special to them. Rather than admit that I couldn't handle this during my crisis, I attempted to make a lunch that included freshly fried french fries.

Cut to the day of the lunch, I'm rushing around because I'm woefully under prepared and just trying to get something together. I remember I need to start cooking these fries and absentmindedly I toss a bunch of damp potatoes in oil that's too hot. It instantly boils over and now I have a small grease fire on the stove in my open office. I shout for help and without thinking, attempt to pat the flame out with my hands (do not recommend). Three or four colleagues run up behind me and are able to quell the flames while I slink away to the bathroom to tend to my hands.

After a few minutes of trying to get myself together, I walk out of the bathroom to see 20 pairs of eyes on me and instantly breakdown. As I'm sobbing, my boss (and soon to be closest friend) says, "no, no, no. No need to cry. This is just.. this is just a physical manifestation of where your life is at right now." I decided to keep that moment of support from a dear friend with me and got an outline of a frying pan on fire on my inner arm.

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I might have posted this here or in another thread, sorry if I did.

I got mine over the summer of 2009. I had just graduated high school and turned 18 maybe a couple months before, and was going away to college soon and wanted to mark that milestone (which turned out to be a disaster, but that's a story for another day). My mom drove me to a kind of shitty local place so I could get tattooed by the guy who did some work on my dad. I got the Minor Threat black sheep logo because at the time I was straight edge and thought I would always be (another story for another day). I had hastily redrawn the logo about the size I wanted and the guy just made a stencil of my scribble. Me being an easily intimidated teenager, I didn't correct him that this wasn't the exact logo. So mine is unique since I drew it. :4_joy:

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I grew up as a kid that was bullied and did all I could to not stand out or be notice as to not bring down more hurtful things upon myself.  I also had a mom that as good as she was, was a child of the depression and wasn't at all accepting of things she wasn't familiar with.  Add to that, I spent my adult life working in a profession that no matter how open minded they claimed to be, didn't want any nonconformists.  I just admired tattoos and don't really consider them a possibility.  I had one coworker with tattoos and occasionally talked to him about getting one.

I was fortunate enough to retire early.  It took a month or so, but it dawned me that I no longer had any of those restraints and could do as I damn well pleased.  First I got my ears pierced and then my first tattoo.  It's been very liberating to kinda give the world the bird, lol.  I'm currently part way thru a half sleeve and spend most nights cruise the net dreaming of future work and artists.

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On March 6, 2017 at 8:41 AM, tattooedj said:

All folk on my maternal grandmother's side were gypsies who traveled pre-WW1 Europe chasing the fruit/vegetable harvests and telling tarot cards to make a living. Always on the road they carried their stories/possessions on their skin instead of in their homes (they had none).

Fast-forward to the '80s and me growing up among these faded blue-grey tattoos of my landlocked relatives. At funerals/weddings/weekends, some showed their tattoos and told the toddler me: when I died St Peter would ask to prove ID at The Gates; while the plainskins patted down their now-nude bodies for proof of who they were, my kinfolk told me, they - the gypsies - only needed to point to their tattoos and stroll smiling right in through Heaven's doors.

For a decade the thought of dying plain and ID-less terrified me so much that finally as a (young) teenager I blagged an older cousin's driver's license, faked my way into the town's only tattoo parlour and got my first tattoo.

My favorite story.

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I always wanted a tattoo since birth. One day me and my friend were stoned out of our minds, somehow got onto the topic of tattoos and then he says "I know a dude who does sick sleeves for like $100 bro" then I was convinced it was a good idea. I was so excited and eager to get a tattoo that I WAS NOT THINKING STRAIGHT- I just wanted to get it. Went the next day , gave the dude $100 and gave me a crap rose sleeve. I regretted it like the next day hahaha. Moral of the story: Have patience and invest in quality artist ... and don't do drugs 

Edited by JohnMcLauchlan

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The who, what, where, when, and why of your first tattoo with a picture pls?!?


I was 14 and my dad took me to get my first tattoo, it’s a little rose wrapped around a treble clef on my ankle. Looks like shit now but I loved it! My mom almost killed my dad as she was and still is extremely anti-tattoo. I’ve thought about getting it covered up as I want to eventually get my full legs done but I’m a little nostalgic about it!


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

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