Secret Royalty On Tour

There’s a particular kind of optimism required to be an early adopter. The kind that says this will be amazing… right up until it isn’t.

Case in point: my foray into the world of watercolour tattoos.

A few years ago, it felt like a brilliant idea. Fluid, expressive, a little bit different. Fast forward not that long and what I had was less ‘artful expression’  and more… ambiguous splodge. Occasionally mistaken for a burn. Not exactly the legacy piece I had in mind.

So, in the spirit of not dying with a questionable life choice permanently attached to my shoulder, I did what any rational person would do: flew to Los Angeles to sit for Sion – a supremely talented young Korean woman I, along with a couple of hundred thousand others, had discovered via Instagram.

Two days.
On my stomach.
Trying to lie still.

The pain was relentless.

At one point there were three others in the room, all lying there like cold dead fish. No twitching. No pleading for breaks. No visible suffering. Honestly -what is that? A separate species? (There’s probably another post here about the pain threshold of a natural redhead.)

Meanwhile, I was having a very human experience. It hurt a lot. 

And yet- somewhere between the endurance test and the quiet stubbornness of seeing it through… there was something else.

Because the moment it was done: pure, ridiculous, slightly delirious elation.

The kind that only comes from choosing to fix something, committing to the discomfort, and coming out the other side with a story (and, thankfully, a much better tattoo).

Early adoption has its risks.

But so does leaving things as they are.