INKED.

After years and years and so many years of wishing, planning, and begging my friends to come get a tattoo with me, here I am, finally inked!

Had it done last June 12, Independence Day. It's already been in my skin for 6 days but I'm still on a high - and I want more! HAHA. This is a total dream com true for me.

I've wanted to get a real tattoo since I was in fourth grade after my Nanay came home one day with a silly little present for me: it was a tattoo sticker of a mermaid that I placed in my chest. Since then, I promised myself that when I grow old enough, I'd get a real tattoo. I don't remember anymore how many of my friends, cousins, and boyfriends I have bugged to come with me when I get inked. Some said "no" cuz they were against it, some said "yes" but they never really kept their promise.

This year, I met someone just as crazy as I am, someone I can completely be myself with and not feel ashamed of it,  someone who doesn't even have to try to read my mind because everything inside my head is exactly the same thing running in his. I met a boy version of me. :)

When I told that boy about my long-time dream of getting inked, he was just like, "F the rest of the world. Let's do everything you've always wanted to do." Those were not the exact words (lol) but that's how it sounded to me. So I thought, let's start with the number 1 thing that's been on my list for a decade and a half. Get inked. That's when I started planning again. I prepared a tattoo design, saved up for it, and mustered enough courage to get on with it.

I was supposed to get a hugeass lightning bolt tattoo on my left ribcage (think Freja Beha Erichsen's rib tattoo) but after countless words of discouragement from random people telling me rib tattoos hurt like a mofo, I decided to just take things slow and start with a small tattoo instead.

I'm a happy happy happy little girl! ^_^

As for the whole tattoo experience, I have to say I did pretty damn good for a first-timer. I was sure I could handle it and I'm not gonna chicken out but I did expect the worst. I told myself it's okay to say ouch and even cry if it really hurts like hell. But well, it didn't come to that point. Not even close. HAHA.

I did hurt, but not enough to make me wail like a pig being cut in half in a slaughterhouse. The pain was there but it was tolerable. The kind of pain you can just totally ignore and be like "Oh, okay that hurt a little, what was it we were talking about again?" 

I'm not being a smug little brat right now. I'm just saying I handled it well and I didn't throw tantrums just because I got poked by needles on my ribs and it freaking hurt - unlike this guy. Maybe I'm just really numb like that? Maybe I have a high tolerance for pain? Maybe I was more excited than hurt or scared? Maybe I wanted it so bad that I couldn't care less about the pain? Maybe I was lucky I have a great support system (Hey J!) And maybe my artist was just really good at what he's doing! [CHECK HIM OUT RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!]

Now here's what we came up with:

Crazy Beautiful. Very self-explanatory. I don't really need to get down to the nitty gritty. Those are the only two words that can really sum up everything that I am: my story, my attitude, my personality. Everything is crazy but I have learned to embrace my insanely weird self and love everything about it - my crazy antics, crazy style, crazy sense of humor, crazy taste in everything, crazy thoughts, and crazy dreams. People call me crazy when I see beauty in a huge mess. Is it wrong that I find something to love when the world is giving me all the reasons to hate? Yeah, maybe I really am crazy but hey, do I look like I care?


♥ Photos by MP00386