Hello my beauties!
Sorry this Tuesday post is so late in the day; I’d completely forgotten that I hadn’t scheduled any articles for today, so I’ll quickly get this one up for you all to check out.
Last Tuesday I done the first part of my review for Terry’s Tattoo’s (A tattoo parlour in Glasgow). Now this is the second part of the review for that particular shop.
At the start of August I got my third tattoo; my second for Terry’s Tattoo’s. I was so excited and booked the appointment via Facebook Messenger – just like the last time. I was so excited; I mailed them my drawing with my idea, explaining that my drawing was not what I wanted tattooed; but it was something to that effect. I was a little uncertain if they’d be able to do my tattoo because there was a lot of detail and I was only wanting it small on my wrist; not too big; not too distracting. Whoever was answering my mails reassured me that they’d be able to do my tattoo and i was elated.
Unfortunately, on the day of my tattoo there was a football match on, making traffic extremely thick and I was over ten minutes late for my appointment (I mailed them to explain but got no reply) but they were extremely understanding and completely fine when I arrived late.
A small blonde girl came out from the back shop and asked what I was wanting to get done, I explained I’d previously mailed and she awkwardly said “Yes, but, what is it exactly you’re wanting?” and again I had to explain. She didn’t bother going through to the back shop to check their computer for my design and instead I had to re-explain. She told me that because of the size I wanted it, I’d be unable to get the full detail – but I’d expected some change of mind when I got into the shop as I have very delicate and petite wrists so I had a feeling they’d change their minds about the detail side of things.
However, what I didn’t expect was them to change my entire wishes. She told me that because I wanted it small on my wrist, I’d be unable to get a full bow and arrow (I’m a Sagittarius and so wanted my full star-symbol) and instead I’d only be able to get an arrow; otherwise the tattoo would most likely crack or smudge so I reluctantly agreed to drop the bow on the understanding that once the tattoo was healed I could always go back and add the bow at a later date. So, she left my friend and I in the front shop (with a sort-of contract-type form where I had to detail my age, address etc and any illnesses. This is obviously for their insurance purposes and I expected to fill something like this out the first time I got tattooed at their shop, but, I didn’t and so I was a little surprised when she passed me a clip board and a form the second time I was at the shop for my third tattoo.) Anyway, she left us in the front shop so she could go into the back shop to go print off some different arrow designs. After a further fifteen minutes she came back with half a dozen arrows and I chose the one I preferred. After staring at it for a few silent (and awkward) moments she decided that she’d be unable to do this arrow because of the detail. She repeated this for every single arrow I chose from the designs she’d printed, before she told me she’d just hand-draw a template of a tattoo she’d be willing to do.
So, again she disappeared and returned a further fifteen minutes later with a drawing of an arrow. I agreed that it was pretty cute and I liked the idea of the shading in the bottom of the arrow which she’d add in when she was doing it. She then decided that the arrow she’d drawn was still too big for my delicate wrists, so again she disappeared into the back shop to re-draw the entire thing in half the size (it was at least six inches in size) and after a further fifteen minutes she reappeared with the completed design.
Eager to just get it done so I could get on with my day, I got to my feet to head into the back shop. But then she awkwardly stood in front of the door, giving me this nervous and awkward laugh, asking for some proof of ID. (I was surprised by this afterwards because the first time I’d been in their shop, three months previously, I hadn’t been ID’d when I had expected to be.) Bashfully I laughed and went into my purse for my ID. I emptied my entire purse onto the sofa before I remembered that I’d left my ID sitting on my dresser the previous night when I’d been out with my friends. She then awkwardly told me that she’d accept my student ID card instead – the very first card I’d produced from my purse, thinking it was my provisional licence before being mistaken. Miffed, I bundled the contents of my purse into my bag, feeling awkward with her looming over me literally hawk-eyeing my every move, pressurising me into hurrying up.
We got through to the back shop and she awkwardly stopped directly in front of the door. Now, the other two tattoo artists who were in the back shop were unbelievably attractive. I’m seriously talking about two six-foot-tall guys with dark scruffy hair and stubble and two sleeved arms; one had glasses and another had an ear-plug; and both were busy at work on two other gorgeous men who were simultaneously stiff with pain as the artists inked their muscular backs. So there I am, stopped in my tracks in the doorway of the back shop, so she can go through my details (hardly in a quiet voice either) on the clipboard as well as go through the process of the tattoo. I – quite rudely due to confusion and impatience – interrupted her mid-sentence and awkwardly laughed, explaining this was my third tattoo and I didn’t need her to explain what was going to happen. She gave me a look that told me I was stupid, and she huffed, sitting down on the chair claiming she had no idea it wasn’t my first. I then had to explain that I’d booked my appointment through Facebook, the exact same as my first appointment, and my first tattoo I’d got done at a tattoo party.
Upon hearing this she glared at me and I wanted to do nothing more than get up and walk out; but I really wanted my tattoo and I’d already paid half of the final payment in a deposit the month previous; I really didn’t want to lose my money, or show myself (or her) up in front of the rest of the people in the back shop; who, baring in mind, were literally two feet away from me.
So, reluctantly I sat down on the chair opposite her and placed my left wrist up on the arm-rest-thing in front of me. She peered at my wrist before telling me in a quiet mumble (I really had to strain to hear her, and I would’ve had to do the exact same, even if there hadn’t been metal music playing in the background or the chuckles and moaning from the other customers or the constant buzzing of the two other tattoo guns.) that she didn’t need to shave my wrist because she couldn’t see any hairs where she was going to tattoo.
Now, I’m sorry but I’ve heard far too many horror stories about people who have had tattoos done without their skin being shaved and have been left horrifically scarred because of this. But, I trusted her, as a customer has to when they’re being tattooed. And I’d trusted the last girl and she’d really paid off; I was still on cloud 9 about my daisy tattoo. She then cleaned the area, put the stencil on my wrist, and got to work.
Just as before, it was as though she was going over my wrist with a pen; it was slightly uncomfortable but not painful. So I began looking around the shop; appreciating the new artwork that was up on the walls, having a look at the pictures I couldn’t see from my last position the time before.
Half-way through she stopped and huffed up at me, giving me a patronising laugh and looking up at me through her lashes like I was an imbecile not even worth a full-look. She huffed, “you have to stop tensing your wrist otherwise I’m going to puncture one of your veins.” I frowned and looked down at my wrist; my veins looked completely fine.
“Well it’s a trauma on my wrists which are already really thin anyway so of course they’re going to pop up a bit, but I’m not tensing them. I’m not stupid it isn’t my first time.” I said with a little laugh; not wanting to be rude or snappy. Unfortunately, half-way through my sentence she continued on with the tattoo, so the buzzing of the gun kind of muted out my words.
Sighing and rolling my eyes I looked away from her before I really did tense up with anger. I tried to stay calm so I’d stay relaxed, and fixated my eyes on the window where the blinds were open today so I could see through into the front shop to the back of my friend’s head where she sat patiently waiting for me.
About five minutes after stopping, the girl (Nikki) started up a conversation – I think it might’ve been about what I was going to do that day, but I’m not 100% certain now – but she was speaking so quietly I had to keep asking her what she was saying in a polite “sorry?” with a bashful laugh and a patient smile. She kept huffing every time she had to repeat herself, and any time I gave a reply she’d just sit there in silence like she either hadn’t meant for me to actually reply, or like I hadn’t actually said anything.
Eventually, after about ten or fifteen (extremely awkward) minutes which felt like a lifetime, she finished and cleaned the area, wrapping it in cling-film and taping it, telling me about how to clean it again, giving me a little help sheet and then I gave her the rest of the money and left.
I wasn’t even out of the shop yet before I felt the pain in my wrist; this time my skin felt like it was on fire; it felt like it was burning from the inside out and was so goddamn painful. I hadn’t felt that in either of my other tattoos and I began to panic, what was going on? I looked down at the cling film when I got to the corner and both my friend and i gasped as we saw all of the blood sticking to the cling film.
I’d bled quite profusely with my second tattoo, so I didn’t think anything else of it.
Not even thirty minutes later and I ripped the cling-film off my wrist, having enough of the burning pain and the disgusting sight of the blood on my wrist. I went to the nearest public toilets after another thirty minutes and washed the tattoo with soap; just like she’d told me to, and applied Bepanthen.
My friend and I then went for a coffee, and as we were sitting there I noticed the horrid thing that was on my wrist.
The tip of the arrow was crooked; as though it’d been held to a hot fire and the tip of the metal had melted. The two balls before the point of the arrow were off-centre and smudged-looking, and the body of the arrow (you know, the straight line?) went from thick to thin. One side of the bottom part of the arrow was lower than the other; one side was smudged and the other was lined.
Hoping and praying and telling myself it was just the scab; that the actual tattoo would look so much better, I went home, hid the mistakes from my momma before she could call them out and march me back to the shop, I frequently washed the tattoo and ignored the burning and the itching.
For an entire week and a half the burning and itching completely took over; the scab looking absolutely atrocious and infected. The scab in places was white, and the skin around the tattoo itself was horribly swollen and red.
One week exactly after I’d had it tattooed.
I googled the symptoms but I couldn’t find anything about infections or the like, so I just kept washing it and ignored the itching. Eventually, the scab fell off and I realised that no, it hadn’t been the scab that had been messed up, of course not. it was the entire thing.
So, now it’s a month later and I’m not 100% happy with my tattoo; it’s crooked and smudged-looking, but it’s my tattoo. It’s mine, it’s imperfect and it reminds me that nothing in life is perfect; not even a tattoo.
In conclusion, I recommend Terry’s Tattoo’s, yes I do. But only if you’re getting Nic (Nicola – the first girl I got to tattoo me at Terry’s. Find that review here.) as she is such a lovely, funny, easy-going, understanding and talented Tattoo artist who is totally wasted at Terry’s in comparison to Nikki. The second girl I got at Terry’s who was awkward, standoffish, and terrible.
I understand that not everybody who works in the public sector is going to be confident and funny with great social skills – duh. But if you’re going to work in a Tattoo shop with such a high reputation like Terry’s does – you have to at least be good at what you do. Nikki, isn’t. So, if you’re going to Terry’s, make sure you don’t get Nikki. I’m sure she’s lovely with her coworkers, family and friends, I’m sure she is. But with me at least, she really wasn’t.
I hope this review has helped, and remember, nothing in life is perfect; so if your tattoo isn’t perfectly what you imagined it’d be; don’t panic about it. If need be; you can have it laser-ed and redone, or reworked/covered in some way.