Rocket (Wo)man

It's been a while since I'd gotten tattooed. My arm isn't done, and getting it finished is going to take a bit longer than expected (now that Justin's moved out of state)... but let's talk about that another time.

When it comes to tattoos, I feel like I have most of my upper body figured out, but the lower half has never been certain. One thing I have been thinking about for a long while though is a rocket.

A friend has been going to Jason Anthony for a long time and based on his recommendation and following the shop's Instagram for a year, I decided he was a good fit, so I emailed him looking to set up an appointment. As the shop owner and an artist in pretty high demand, I expected to hear back with a date in some far flung future month. He responded that night to let me know he had a cancellation and could sneak me in. The next day.

I walked to the shop in the rain. Wet and a little breathless, I stepped into the crowded shop and when the shop manager asked who I was there to see... I gave the wrong name. (Ooops!)

While I filled out the paperwork, Jason Anthony showed me the rocket he'd drawn out. All I had said in my email to him was an "old school rocket ship tattooed on my ankle (approximately the size of a standard playing card)."

As soon as I saw the rocket he came up with, I knew I was in the right hands. It was like he'd pulled it out of my brain.

Then, he asked me about colors. When I said "Oranges" he paused. I'm not sure where he went with that, but he seemed startled by it. What's funny is that for me "oranges" meant that it would have orange in it. (I'm better at writing out what I mean than saying things on the fly. Usually it comes out as undecipherable mush) He was much more comfortable after we agreed that his plan to go from red to yellow through oranges was the best plan.

Oh, Plasma and Ink.... you're one of my favorite smells.

Then came the real decision. Left or right.

It might not seem like a difficult question, but the way my brain works... well, I always imagine tattoos on the left side of my body. Always. I have no idea why, but I do.

So, while I made my way over to his station, I had a small mental crisis that ended with the decision to put it on my right leg. Why right? um.... balance? I'm not entirely sure. I considered 20 different things in that half minute (my two tiny tattoos on my left foot, the potential need for knee surgery on my left leg, the general wrap of my other planned leg tattoos....)

So I sat in the chair, kicked off my shoes and rolled up my pant leg, and settled in for the slow burn.

And what I wound up with was exactly what I'd hoped to walk out with.

(My awesome Rocket, and the image I gave him for size and placement)