I spent years mulling over a half-sleeve tattoo. Earlier this year, well along my path toward overcoming anxiety and depression, I started looking through websites, portfolios, and Instagram pages to find a tattoo artist who was making the kind of art that resonated with me. In April, I found my guy, but it was impossible for me to work up the nerve to contact him until I BUILT UP SOME CONFIDENCE.

On June 17th, 2023, I drummed up enough courage to fill out and submit his online contact form.

On June 18th, 2023, he emailed me back to set up a consultation.

On June 21st, 2023, I walked over to the tattoo studio to speak with him in person. After less than 30 minutes, I booked four sessions. Mid-August, late-September, early-November, mid-December. I put down my deposit and that was that. In about seven weeks’ time, I’m going to sit down for my first session with a guy I just met and get some ink injected into my dermis for five hours. Forever. And then I’m going to do it at least three more times.

In the span of 76 hours, I finalized a life-changing decision. Fuck, man, I’m still processing it. You can tell that I’m serious because the level of snark is at an all-time low for a post that I’m already about 250 words into. This is SERIOUS BUSINESS! I’m taking this SERIOUSLY! I have to! From shoulder to elbow, I’m permanently altering my right arm. This is not to be taken lightly, ladies and/or gentlemen. Hopefully just ladies, but I’ll take any audience!

I’m not comfortable naming the fine artist who is going to hurt me for 20 total hours yet, because I might end up completely wussing out and I don’t want him to read this and get mad at me for completely wussing out and wasting his precious time. But I will say that he’s based in Chicago, and he specializes in a completely original style of biomechanical and abstract blackwork. Based on this information you could probably find him quickly, but let’s way until my arm is bleeding like crazy before I start crediting him with the work he’ll be doing on my tender flesh.

I’m excited! I’ve been thinking about this for long enough that I’m confident that I’m making the right choice for myself. I’m looking quite forward to having some cool-ass art on my body until I’m long dead and ready for decomposition. I can’t wait to scare old grannies with some eerie, abstract black-and-gray artwork on my arm as I brazenly wear short-sleeved t-shirts of the finest cotton out in public. I can’t wait for my own mother to shake her head with disappointment as I break the news that I’m ruining my flesh with dastardly inks. I can’t wait to hide it from my in-laws forever with long-sleeved t-shirts and hooded sweatshirts during 90°F summer weather, inciting some very bewildered looks. Most of all, I’m looking forward to outwardly and passively expressing myself since I’m not very good at actively expressing myself through words or hand gestures or t-shirts that say “FUCK THE SHRINERS” on them.

I’m not too worried about regrets, because the worst that will happen is that a lot of my arm will be a different color and I can just write about it as a form of self-therapy for all two of my website fans to enjoy. Based on his portfolio, this artist looks very impressive and capable of drawing things on body parts with a very painful tattoo machine, so I don’t have to worry about getting a shitty-ass tattoo. Perhaps my half-sleeve will scare my children, to which I say that they need to face the harsh reality early on that Dad is a creep and he’s no good for society in general! These things must be learned eventually.

So, thank you for reading. I hope in the coming months I can post progress photos of my off-putting, flabby arm and discuss any sort of hang-ups and insecurities I have about disfiguring the right side of my person for the rest of my pathetic life!

Oh yeah, I already have a tattoo, so I’ve done this before. Thank you for asking. That’s a story for another time! Stay tuned, I’ll have more inanities to spew in the coming months!

Good thing I ended up snarking this thing up after all.