Winner Winner Chicken Tattoo

I've found people to be very divided when it comes to tattoos. There's a few different camps out there, of which I belong to the "I would be covered in them if I had the money and I wasn't so indecisive" group. If you're not in to them, or have nothing nice to say, you might wanna go watch cat videos or something and skip this.

Recently I entered a competition on Instagram to win up to a full day sitting with Darcie Kapor, the legend who did the tattoo on my foot - the one that Tricky chose at the Kustom Kulture Festival. Because doesn't everyone let their 7yo choose a tattoo design on a chocolate wheel? You know, the one Bobbin keeps copying? 

"I got a bird tattoo just like you, Mum!" Naw, my kid is so bogan 🤘🐦👩‍👧

A post shared by G L O W (aka Trae) (@wheres.my.glow) on Feb 21, 2018 at 3:47am PST

I was so pumped when I found out I won. Because a) a new tattoo from Darcie, and b) free! I had an idea based off the designs of artist Jason Freeny, who makes sick AF anatomical sculptures. I follow his social media channels and he had mentioned he was cool with people using his designs as a starting point for their tattoo art. I gave Darcie the brief: Rosie the Riveter, as a LEGO person, with the anatomical cut out ala Freeny. 

She nailed it. She came up with this full upper arm piece that included elements to represent my love of galaxies, plants, the mother/child bond, and love. It was insane. The second I saw it, I was lost for words and replied to her in heart eye emojis only. It was booked in and everything was hunky dory.

Narrator: But everything was not hunky dory, for Glow had a midnight freak out.

A few nights before I was due to go in, I flipped out. The piece was in effect a half sleeve, which I have wanted for ever, but being face to face with the prospect I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Was I just getting it big because I wanted it? Or because it was free? Or because I'm a bit manic? An arm is not as easy to cover as the tiny tramp stamp on my back I got when I was 18!

Darcie was so lovely, and said we can just leave the background pieces out for now, and if I want they can always be added in later to make a sleeve. 

So with my anxieties calmed I headed in, and we got down to business on my fifth tattoo.

I generally don't find tattoos too painful on the day (hit it when it's fresh and I'll cry though). They're not fun, but I have this insane pain threshold and it comes in handy sometimes - tattoos and giving birth come to mind. This tattoo design didn't have much combining of colours (ink over already inked skin gets a bit ouchy), so it was a breeze compared to my galaxy on my other arm where all the colours overlap and swirl together - with that I was trying hard not to squirm. 

At a few points I had this weird as fuck referred pain in my opposite arm! I have never felt that before! It was as if I was having a tattoo done on both sides at once. 

I read a few chapters of my book, ate chocolate, made slow motion videos and generally laid about chatting to Darcie about how awesome dogs are. It was basically a four hour, one armed break. 

I am SO happy with how it turned out.

Wyldstyle Rosie the Riveter Anatomy Tattoo - a bit bloody and puffy

It's Wyldstyle wearing the Rosie the Riveter shirt and headscarf, with anatomy cut away. I couldn't decide if I wanted lips on her or not; on the drawings and stencil it looked perfect but now that it is on my arm, I think she needs lips and the edge of her eye poking out from under her hair. Darcie said I can think about it and come back in a couple of weeks to add them if I still feel that way.

What do you think? A friend said it was "weird, unusual and quirky... much like you... I like it" and I have to say that has to be one of the best compliments I've ever gotten! 

IPL and the Chocolate Starfish

In my latest reincarnation I'm a Social Media Manager. I'm finding there are certain downsides to having a few clients for my social media management gig these days (I'm in house for one, and freelance for four others), namely that the "Year of Content" has quickly taken a back seat. Because this blogging shit isn't paid, while faffing about on someones Instagram account is, and I have a mortgage to pay.

But it's not the daily grind that you think of when people mention going to work. It's pretty cool and there are the great perks that come with my job. Namely, that I can be in the office, tap tap tapping away on my laptop and then pop in to the next room for some IPL hair removal.

Such an event occurred the other day, and since it involves nudity and genitals I thought "I SHOULD TOTALLY BLOG THIS!". Because embarrassing myself on the internet is part of my very specific skill set. 

Now I am not a fan of the look of a Brazilian wax. In my mind it looks pre-pubescent, and that gives me the heebie jeebies. But I figured it might be a good idea to have one session of IPL the full South American way to reduce the amount of hair, and then just get my standard bikini line done from then on to actually permanently remove ALL of that straggly hair that usually sticks out my bathers. 

I'm no stranger to having people between my legs. You dirty bastards are thinking "oh yeah, I bet!", but what I actually mean is that I've been waxed before, I've had kids, I've had operations down there, so quite a few people have been exposed to my undercarriage. Plus I'm of the age where my giveashit factor is rapidly declining. It's just a vulva, yo.

I prepped for my IPL the night before by briefly considering the whipper snipper for the inital stage, but instead opted for the clippers (that will never be looked at the same by MapGuy mid beard trim). Wrapped in a towel, I lugged the trimmers, and the hand vac (because my Lady Garden was more Lady Hedge) to the bathroom, past MG who piped up "Need a torch? A headlamp perhaps?". Fucker. 

As it turns out, I could have used one. Or a hand mirror. 

I'm super bendy, but even with my attempts at contortion I couldn't see everything and did my best to feel my way around when I got the actual razor blade stage. Feel fanny, swipe swipe, feel fanny, swipe again, smooth, next bit. And on and on it went for seventeen hours until I just about blunted the razor. I'm not kidding - I have the fabulous, and not uncommon quirk, of all my pubes being "double pluggers" or even "triple pluggers"; two or three hairs growing out of each follicle. You're welcome for that visual. 

You have to shave before IPL because the light is distributed throughout the pigment, so having the pigment just under the skin in the follicle means you'll get a more power packed punch where it really needs it. Also, it's super heating that pigment and those hairs will singe. Legit catch fire if you're not careful. 

I head to work the next day and after an hour or so of Professional Facebooking, it was my time to go and get the actual IPL done (yes, we're this far in to the story and I haven't had it yet). 

I hopped on the bed and my lovely coworker, D, quickly did my underarms first - and a few little microscopic hairs that had popped through a millimetre from the night before singed. See, you thought I was joking about catching fire but I'm not. And we don't want a CROTCH FIRE, ya hear? I ripped my pants off doing the whole hide your undies thing - OMG why do we do that? She's about to see my vag but oh dear don't let her see my delicates! - and jumped on the bed legs akimbo. 

I was scared it was going to be super painful, but I'd witnessed (and filmed - you HAVE to watch it!) the gorgeous 1MotherBlogger having her IPL Brazilian and we chatted throughout the whole thing. Surely if you can have a bit of a chin wag it's not that painful... and she was right. Whilst it wasn't fun, but there were only a few really ouchy bits and I too was able to chat away the entire time while D manoeuvred the handpiece all over my bits, zapping my follicles to kingdom come. My underarms actually hurt more, which means I obviously have Labia of Steel. 

Aaaanywho, it came time for me to roll on my side so D could do my butt. Yes, they go ALL THE WAY.

But wait, it gets better. Because I heard the horrifying words "Oh, you've missed a bit shaving. It's OK, I'll get a razor". At which point my colleague, a woman who is so lovely and I enjoy working with, SHAVED MY ASSHOLE. 

She proceeded like it was nothing (because she's a nurse, a consummate professional, and has done this exact thing hundreds of times), and zapped my chocolate starfish. On the pain scale, it was only about a two to three, but on the embarrassment scale of 1 to FUCKING KILL ME NOW, it was right at the top. It's one thing to have your lady lips treated, but it's a whole new experience for a colleague to hold up your buttcheek and go to town. Or, I don't know, maybe it's not for you. You might have a very, err, progressive workplace?  

As the treatment finished I was relieved both that I could put pants back on and that it had barely hurt at all - honestly waaaaay less painful than waxing. In pondering how awkward it would or wouldn't be to look D in the face and think "you've seen me naked", I considered that it would be worse if she'd treated over the hair; I would be left explaining to the Fire Department and Emergency Room docs just how it came to be that my ass hairs caught fire and burnt the office down.