So it was my birthday yesterday and this past Sunday I decided it was time for mi to get my next tattoo (number 4). My fiance was expecting mi to simply book the appointment and get a price but since I am a complete baby (Yes, after all my time in the tattoo shop I am still scared of pain, I do not fall into the 'I go back because I like the pain' category), I decided not to book an appointment and stew for the next week over the pain that would be inflicted on mi, but rather to just go for it. By that I mean, sending my fiance on a quick recon mission to Clicks and commandeer some Emla 5%. This, in a nutshell, is a phenomenal numbing cream that many use on certain sensitive areas, such as the inside of the bicep, which I hear is super-painful but I was going to test it on my forearm. Of course, I was just looking for the best way to calm my nerves, whether or not the cream worked was secondary really if my brain could convince my arm that it was not feeling pain. If I wasn't feeling cowardly enough, a muscle-bound, tank top wearing, beefcake, sat down in the chair next to mi and proceeded to get, without flinching, the inside of his bicep coloured in. I consoled myself by saying that boys and girls were different with their pain tolerance - not to mention that he probably weighed three times I did and surely that was a factor?
So my fiance returned after what seemed an eternity with the (what I hoped would be my new favourite cream) Emla. The apprentice kindly put half the tube on my arm and covered it with Glad wrap. Those of you who have had a tattoo know that Glad wrap is a staple in any tattoo artist's arsenal and I was happy to have it placed around my arm to help the effectiveness of the cream - of course I would have worn a pink tutu if I thought it would have warded off the pain. I was then instructed to wait an hour until the cream worked it's magic. While I had no problem waiting the required hour (after all it was my birthday weekend and I had no intention of actually studying or doing any housework), I was amazed the hear the thoughts running around my head. The thought that seemed to bounce around and demand the most of my attention was 'What if the cream doesn't work?'. This, of course, lead mi to believe that my devoted fiance, who battled the manic pay-weekend queues to get something that may possibly fend of the pending pain, might have wasted his own time and money.
I was nearly driven to insanity with my completely inane thoughts that almost made mi get up and run all the way home to hide in a dark corner and comtemplate if this new ink was even worth it. But, being the brave soul I am, I stuck it out and my tattoo artist called mi into the back room to take my place in his chair. This was the moment of truth, Emla 5% was going to be put to the test! The Glad wrap was removed and my arm wiped clean. Much to my surprise, I could not feel it!! Of course, a wipe with a paper towel is certainly nothing like a tattoo gun. Once I was happy with the placement of the outline (by this time, he could have placed it on my forehead and I would have given him the go-ahead, just to begin and get it over with), the time had arrived. The familiar buzzing of the tattoo gun began and my artist took his position and he began. I turned away, closed my eyes and proceeded to take myself to may 'happy place'. After about 5 minutes of squishing my face into what must have been a totally unbecoming look I turned to ask my artist if he had actually begun or was just torturing mi when I saw that he had indeed started his masterpiece. The realisation finally hit mi that this would certainly not be anything like the ordeal I went through the last time I got a tattoo. I, of course, proclaimed my love to my artist, thankfully my fiance didn't mind. Sadly, my artist, although he said he loved mi too, said I shouldn't speak too soon since the Emla would wear off during the course of my hour long session. I'll be honest, normally I would be worried about when the cream would wear off and how much torture I would have to endure before my beautiful new addition would be done, but I had broken through the psychological barrier of beginning the tat, which was my whole goal in the first place. Besides, my last tat took two and half hours so even 45 minutes of pain will be nothing compared to that!
True to my artist's word, the cream's wonderful numbing power did start to wear off. Usually I do my best to not even look at what he is doing but I couldn't resist taking a peek to see how far he was and how much I had left to sit through before it was done. It seemed he was about halfway. There would be only 30 minutes left to endure, fantastic!! There were places which hurt a whole bunch more than others, I do not know if this was due to sensitive areas or areas that did not have enough Emla but all in all, this was definitely nothing like my last tat. My artist, being the perfectionist that he is, double-checked that he covered everything he was meant and proceeded to clean mi up and wrap my arm in Glad wrap. All of a sudden I felt a massive stinging sensation. I was confused, the buzzing had stopped, so I know it wasn't a needle. What was causing mi to consider chopping off my arm just to stop the pain. Little did I know that the liquid being sprayed on my arm in copious amounts would be the source of my agony. This had never hurt before and I was totally befuddled as to why this was now hurting. My artist, after I let out a little squeal that resembled the word 'ow', simply smiled and continued inflicting the torture by picking up another spray bottle with a different coloured liquid. This new liquid didn't hurt so much, so I managed a teeny smile back. All I could think was how I should really 'man up' since I had gone through worse. My only conclusion as to why the spray stang this time instead of the past three times was that it was because Emla had now worn off and my skin was attempting to gain some kind of control over itself again and possibly gain revenge on mi for putting through this torture for no reason. Whatever the reason, I was certainly grateful this was the first (and hopefully only) time I would feel this pain.
My fiance paid for my experience and I was so happy we could finally head home. I was thrilled that my artist had told mi that I 'sat very nicely' this time so I was very proud of my new-found (albeit chemically enhanced) bravery - granted I did set the bar quite low the last time I visited his chair. The drive home was a little awkward, considering I still had some areas of numbeness and opening my window to give the car guard his tip was quite a feat in itself.
My verdict after all this, is that while I certainly see the benefit to using Emla, I might forego it the next time to truly cement my bravery, BUT, I may eat my words because I do still have half a tube of Emla left... My theory, waste not, want not.
So my fiance returned after what seemed an eternity with the (what I hoped would be my new favourite cream) Emla. The apprentice kindly put half the tube on my arm and covered it with Glad wrap. Those of you who have had a tattoo know that Glad wrap is a staple in any tattoo artist's arsenal and I was happy to have it placed around my arm to help the effectiveness of the cream - of course I would have worn a pink tutu if I thought it would have warded off the pain. I was then instructed to wait an hour until the cream worked it's magic. While I had no problem waiting the required hour (after all it was my birthday weekend and I had no intention of actually studying or doing any housework), I was amazed the hear the thoughts running around my head. The thought that seemed to bounce around and demand the most of my attention was 'What if the cream doesn't work?'. This, of course, lead mi to believe that my devoted fiance, who battled the manic pay-weekend queues to get something that may possibly fend of the pending pain, might have wasted his own time and money.
I was nearly driven to insanity with my completely inane thoughts that almost made mi get up and run all the way home to hide in a dark corner and comtemplate if this new ink was even worth it. But, being the brave soul I am, I stuck it out and my tattoo artist called mi into the back room to take my place in his chair. This was the moment of truth, Emla 5% was going to be put to the test! The Glad wrap was removed and my arm wiped clean. Much to my surprise, I could not feel it!! Of course, a wipe with a paper towel is certainly nothing like a tattoo gun. Once I was happy with the placement of the outline (by this time, he could have placed it on my forehead and I would have given him the go-ahead, just to begin and get it over with), the time had arrived. The familiar buzzing of the tattoo gun began and my artist took his position and he began. I turned away, closed my eyes and proceeded to take myself to may 'happy place'. After about 5 minutes of squishing my face into what must have been a totally unbecoming look I turned to ask my artist if he had actually begun or was just torturing mi when I saw that he had indeed started his masterpiece. The realisation finally hit mi that this would certainly not be anything like the ordeal I went through the last time I got a tattoo. I, of course, proclaimed my love to my artist, thankfully my fiance didn't mind. Sadly, my artist, although he said he loved mi too, said I shouldn't speak too soon since the Emla would wear off during the course of my hour long session. I'll be honest, normally I would be worried about when the cream would wear off and how much torture I would have to endure before my beautiful new addition would be done, but I had broken through the psychological barrier of beginning the tat, which was my whole goal in the first place. Besides, my last tat took two and half hours so even 45 minutes of pain will be nothing compared to that!
True to my artist's word, the cream's wonderful numbing power did start to wear off. Usually I do my best to not even look at what he is doing but I couldn't resist taking a peek to see how far he was and how much I had left to sit through before it was done. It seemed he was about halfway. There would be only 30 minutes left to endure, fantastic!! There were places which hurt a whole bunch more than others, I do not know if this was due to sensitive areas or areas that did not have enough Emla but all in all, this was definitely nothing like my last tat. My artist, being the perfectionist that he is, double-checked that he covered everything he was meant and proceeded to clean mi up and wrap my arm in Glad wrap. All of a sudden I felt a massive stinging sensation. I was confused, the buzzing had stopped, so I know it wasn't a needle. What was causing mi to consider chopping off my arm just to stop the pain. Little did I know that the liquid being sprayed on my arm in copious amounts would be the source of my agony. This had never hurt before and I was totally befuddled as to why this was now hurting. My artist, after I let out a little squeal that resembled the word 'ow', simply smiled and continued inflicting the torture by picking up another spray bottle with a different coloured liquid. This new liquid didn't hurt so much, so I managed a teeny smile back. All I could think was how I should really 'man up' since I had gone through worse. My only conclusion as to why the spray stang this time instead of the past three times was that it was because Emla had now worn off and my skin was attempting to gain some kind of control over itself again and possibly gain revenge on mi for putting through this torture for no reason. Whatever the reason, I was certainly grateful this was the first (and hopefully only) time I would feel this pain.
My fiance paid for my experience and I was so happy we could finally head home. I was thrilled that my artist had told mi that I 'sat very nicely' this time so I was very proud of my new-found (albeit chemically enhanced) bravery - granted I did set the bar quite low the last time I visited his chair. The drive home was a little awkward, considering I still had some areas of numbeness and opening my window to give the car guard his tip was quite a feat in itself.
My verdict after all this, is that while I certainly see the benefit to using Emla, I might forego it the next time to truly cement my bravery, BUT, I may eat my words because I do still have half a tube of Emla left... My theory, waste not, want not.
