The Wisdom of Shaun

I met a prophet this year whose words gave me insight into myself and the nature of life.  Okay, "prophet" may not be the right title because he didn't actually impart words from God. 

Wise man?  Guru?  He shall be called Shaun.

Shaun is a tattoo artist.  He imparts wisdom, art, and I'm pretty sure that he would hook me up with some pot if I so desired.

Like many people in their 30's who are facing the tattoo choices of their 20's, I came to the conclusion that it is time to fix my tattoo.  FIX, not remove.  Removal is ridiculous.  Only pretentious snots who are trying to keep people from knowing that they were ever 20 years old get their tattoos removed. 

The only acceptable reasons for tattoo removal are the following:

1)  you were drunk and now have a cartoon or misspelled word on your body
2)  you are no long married to or with the person whose name you lovingly had placed on your ass
3)  you got a tattoo on your forehead and want to re-enter normal society

None of those apply to me and I am not a pretentious snot, so the responsible thing to do was to get my cheap, faded tramp stamp made larger and more awesome.  I decided to fix/add to the little blue flower about 10 years ago.  It took me until now to do it because I REMEMBER the horrible pain and misery that made 20 minutes feel like 3 days.

Enter Shaun, my guru.

I give Shaun a general idea of what I want.  He draws a perfectly wonderful tramp stamp around my existing one.  Approved. 

I say to Shaun:  okay, I am going to cry a lot.  I am sorry if I cuss.  When I did this the first time around, it was horrible.

Shaun:  How long ago was that?

Me:  11 years ago.

Shaun:  I bet it won't be as bad this time.  You have probably experienced a lot of real pain in your life in the last 11 years.  It tends to toughen people up.  You may be surprised.

Me:  (didn't actually say anything but gave him a look that made clear I was not buying his bullshit)

Shaun:  Have you had any kids?

Me:  No

Shaun:  Surgery?  Serious illness?

Me:  Nope.  I haven't even had wisdom teeth removed.

Shaun:  Well, you will still be surprised how much more pain you can bear now.

And damn it.  He was right.  The man tattooed flowers and vines above my ass for 45 minutes.  It hurt, but it was not miserable.  I found myself entertained by the difference of feeling when the needle moved across the skin (just a warm, barely there pain) and then hit a nerve (the shooting pain that seemed to burn my teeth).

45 minutes later, I was shaking but happy.  I did not cry.  How the hell?  I honestly don't think that anything biologically changed in me (regarding pain, at least) over 11 years.  Age and time taught me how to hurt.

Shaun, a man of wisdom.  His words came back to me today while driving. 

I may not know what to do with my life.  I am going crazy with uncertainty and being judged by an entire county.  I have had trust broken and my pride crushed in the last few months.  I'm beyond broke and doubting every decision I made leading up to this point.

But I'll be okay.  I know how to hurt. 

I also have a pretty bad-ass tramp stamp to make me feel better when I back that thing up in the mirror.