Weekend firsts

As you already know from reading my hubby's blog, Radspace, he filmed some videos this weekend with the crew at Punished Brats. I'm so happy that he was invited to perform; it sounds like he had a great time and that everyone liked him. I know how good a spanking and "mean daddy" he can be -- now the world will know...

Me, I had my own first ... I FINALLY took the plunge and got a tattoo, which I've been wanting to do for years. Literally years of saying, "Yes, I want one, but I just can't decide WHAT I want." I tried to to combine a few of my personal likes with things that were meaningful to me, such as cats, motorcycles, my recovery from alcoholism, etc. and nothing seemed right.

I finally came up with an idea that was simple. It fits into both my BDSM lifestyle (particularly as a submissive, which is the side I identify with the most), and my sobriety, a subtle but very important part of my life. I wanted a chain going around my wrist, with some sort of meaningful words accompanying it. I borrowed a line from AA literature, specifically, the "3rd Step Prayer," which was instrumental to me in the early years. Along with my tribute to the spirituality I still strive toward, I believe this is a perfect tribute to those I submit to:

"I offer myself to Thee." Those words are now on my left wrist, above a chain that encircles the wrist. I am almost afraid to take the bandages off; I loved it just after I saw the finished product. Will I still love it tomorrow?

My friend Randi went with me. She's gotten a number of tattoos over the years; I trusted her advice and was grateful for her support. She recommended a Long Island place she knew where the artists were very good, Da Vinci Tattoo Studio. All I knew was that it was going to hurt; I had no idea how much or how I would react to it -- just as I feel when I approach a scene with any new player or any new type of play. The basic assumption is that I will survive. But the question is: Will I survive "gracefully"?

I don't know how to explain this. I must truly be a masochist, because I loved the pain. I think I began to fly pretty soon after it started, and the combination of the sharpness (it felt alternately like intense heat and like cutting) and vibration knocked me right into euphoria. There were a couple parts where the pain was very pointed -- my wrists are small and when the needle was etching me over the bone that sticks out at the side, it felt like a very sharp, small knife slicing into me. But I continued to soar over it, really getting a high from it all. Sometimes I had my eyes closed, sometimes I looked at Randi, sometimes I just watched the artist and the needle do its work. At one point I looked at her and said, "I think I'm stoned." She laughed.

I face my coworkers tomorrow. Will this be "outing" myself too much? We'll see. I went through these fears last night and almost changed the location of the tattoo at the last minute. But it was what I wanted, in the location I wanted, and I went ahead and did it.

Whew.