Tattoo Talk Thursday: POOH BEAR TATTOO

11 June 2019

Montreal, Quebec, Canada.

It's time.

I've been looking forward to getting this tattoo for months. It's hard to believe that I've waited 3 months for this. Maybe even more. I walk into the shop both excited and anxious. I'm booked in with James at midday. When I walk into the shop, there's a guy doodling at the counter and a woman behind it, organising file folders. I walk up and tell her that I have an appointment with James at midday. She's warm and friendly; she hands me a clipboard and tells me to just fill it out for her. They don't ask me for ID. The woman knows just by looking at me I'm well over the age of 18. The guy at the counter doesn't say anything during this exchange, rather he's waiting until I've sat on the sofa before turning to me. "I'm James. I've got your design." He reminds me of Puffnstuff; similar bodies and a wave of longing to touch washes over me. I shake it off and focus on the tattoo at hand. He shows me the drawing he's got set up off the little photo I sent him a few months back. I want to scream. "It's perfect!" I'm impressed that I managed to keep my enthusiasm under my hat. He heads downstairs to his room to make the stencil and set up, leaving me waiting above. Goddamn, I love getting tattooed. 

James calls me down 10 minutes later. I've got my boxers on under my jammies. They don't look that good under skinnies and it's frankly, uncomfortable. While he gets the stencil and gloves on, I drop trow. It's so routine now. He knows it too; he doesn't have to tell me what to as I turn, stand straight with my legs a little ways apart so he can get the stencil on. I told him I'll use his judgement on the piece, He got it on perfect in one go, leaving space for me to add on above and below it. I couldn't have asked for a better spot. Since I'd already pre-shaved the spot, he didn't have to waste time preparing the area. Honestly, it took me almost a good 10 minutes to shave the back of my thigh; a rather furry boy I am. He doesn't have to tell me what to do; I already know. As soon as the stencil is set, I get up on the body table, turning onto my side. I wait for him to let me know if he wants me closer or further from him. He has me move a little bit back toward him. I let him know that I'm going to have headphones in, so if he needs to stop he's going to have to tap me or if he needs to move me he can do so, I've got no complaints. I know that due to the location of the area his arm will need to lay high against my upper thigh and onto my ass. I'm not uncomfortable with this. It's just a part of being tattooed.

 I'm falling asleep. It's so calming, so comforting. I've not been sleeping well and the sensation of being tattooed is not doing me any favor-I snap back to the room after about 25 minutes. Everythings unclear. I remember where I am, but it doesn't feel that long since I closed my eyes to rest them. I check the time on my iPad and see that nearly a half hour has passed. I don't know what the fuck happened. I just couldn't keep my eyes open. It was nice though; peaceful. I'd love to nod back off but he tells me that we're almost finished. I, of course, can't see the piece, but I trust him. He saturates me with colour; it's good he's not afraid to get in there. Some artists are shy with colour. He lets me know it will only be a few minutes more he just wants to add the white bits around it.

When he told me it was done I joked with him that I should know how to take care of it by now and if I didn't maybe I shouldn't be getting inked. He asked me how I heal my pieces because they've healed really well. I told him I like to experiment based on the size and the location of the piece. Sometimes I dry heal, sometimes use Nivea, sometimes use a balm/salve that I'm going to promote in a blog. It's really just a play it by ear when I get the piece. He said that was smart as he bandaged me, asking me if I've ever had that kind before. I told him I had and showed him the massive piece that was once covered with the stretchy film plaster. We talked for a few minutes after while I got myself together, I get stiff laying for a bit, he took some pictures and I headed upstairs to pay. 

I asked him if he'd be interested in doing other pieces when I'm back in Montreal and he said he'd be down. He does not only tattoos that look like stickers, but patches on the skin as well. I told him I'd be game to let him experiment with that on me. Try it maybe with a Pokemon or something other '90s themed because the entire back of my right thigh is 90's themed. He was down for the idea. We exchanged other ideas and goodbyes, me with a promise to get some nice healing shots of the Pooh Bear for him and for him to think about new techniques he'll try on me when I'm back next. 

A year ago last year I was having my rat tattoo done. I was in another country getting tattooed. Both animals, interestingly enough. Both related to one another, despite the drastic style change in art, placement and animal. Two years ago  I was in a tattoo shop as well. A different shop. Getting a tattoo that relates to the other two, despite it being a moon and in black and grey. They all have one beautiful connecting factor; someone who gives my life a certain amound of pleasure and joy. He may not think himself anything special, but I sure do. I don't know where I will be next year or if I'll even make it to the next year, but I do know one thing. I'll be getting tattooed. What will I be getting tattooed? Who knows. Maybe I should have thought about getting other pieces for him, knowing how it's ended before, but I don't see myself ever really regretting having let him into my life. He's had his moments of being a complete arse, but so have I. Havent't we all? 

His influence was heavy in the tattoo. He helped me choose what to get; he doesn't even know that. I knew I was wanting to be tattooed on the trip on that date, but I had no idea what I wanted until I looked over and saw his little chubby tummy encased in a short, almost too small shirt. I just knew it. A pooh bear. A perfect representation for him. I grew up loving Pooh Bear; I just didn't like the Grand Aventure where they went to Skull Rock, that fucked me up. Still, to this day, I can't watch it. I guess its now more memory of the terror that plagued me as a child; the sensation of it, rather than the actual film, seeing as I fall asleep to Ted Bundy and Alexander Pitrushkin. Memory. What a funny thing. I got the Pooh Bear for him, but also for me. I wanted to always be reminded of the warmth and joy that he brings to my life, but I wanted to also always have a reminder of what I've overcome. I wanted to hold a piece of my childhood with me wherever I go in case things become difficult. 

I picked the Pooh Bear image itself off a pair of trainers I have. I was thinking about a cute sleeping one, but someone else I know wanted to get it and I didn't really want to have matching because she wanted hers for a pure reason and mine for less than pure. (No, those reasons won't be put in this blog). I saw the Pooh Bear trainers-the ones I did the blog on- and thought the one where he's got the hive on his head and he's kind of confused holding his skateboard was perfect. It's basically him all confused with his VR headset on and a controller in one hand.

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LINKS

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ANGER INK 

391 Sainte-Catherine Ouest
Montreal, H3B 1A4

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E-Mail: jameslightyeartattoo@gmail.com