A few weeks had passed, and I decided yes, this was the tattoo for me. So, me and my friend went to the shop where I found the picture and of course it was closed. I had worked myself up for it so today was the day I was getting one, so went to another tattoo shop and told them what it was I wanted. Remember, I was underage, but I didn’t get asked for ID, the tattoo artist just said that there were some dragon pictures in one of the books. They were nothing like I hoped but I just picked a dragon, all black, and said I would have that. He said that would be fine, but advised me to have a couple of stiff drinks first and then come back, due to it being all black ink work. Bearing in mind I was sixteen and it was ten o’clock in the morning, not the best advice, but off I went. I went to a pub where they opened early and served beer with breakfast. It was part of a chain, so I knew that I would be able to get a drink there. I had a couple of Scotches—that was my favourite underage drink of choice then, mainly because Mum and Dad drank it so both would have it at home and could be easily topped up with water if I stole some—and went back.
I sat in a chair, straddled, as I was having it on my back, and he started. The rest is a blur. I felt sick so had to hold a bin in front of me and for about ten minutes my vision was blurred, and I went deaf. I didn’t know if it was the Scotch or the tattoo or a combination of both, but I got through it, just. It wasn’t painful at all, just a burning sensation. If I didn’t feel sick, lose my hearing or vision, I think it would have been fine. I instantly regretted it and have done ever since. I should have listened to my mum, she had known best this time, although I would never admit to it and I never did get back in the nightclub until I was of legal age so getting the tattoo didn’t make me look older.
Going back to the dress, I did not want a dress that had a nice back as I didn’t want to highlight my dodgy tattoo.
My sister took a couple of pics of me in the dresses, but looking at them later, wished she hadn’t as I looked worse in the picture than I did in the mirror. I wasn’t the most photogenic.
Moving swiftly on, I tried on the next one, so stripped again. This one was a bit better, fitted nicely had a fishtail, strapless sweetheart neckline, but I still didn’t have that feeling and there were no tears in the room. I think the lady thought this was the one, though, as the next thing I knew, she was putting a veil on my head, making me put on some used ill-fitting shoes to give me a bit of height. I smiled politely and said I liked the shape but there was just something missing. A tiara maybe, she said. No, not what I was thinking at all. I was unsure if I wanted to wear a veil, but a tiara was a definite no, no.
Then onto the final one. It was my favourite and hugged my curvy figure and actually looked quite nice, if I did say so myself. My mum and sister liked it too, but there was no real emotion, so I knew it wasn’t the one, one. But the best of a bad bunch. This experience wasn’t one I would be repeating anytime soon, but one thing that I had gained from it was what styles suited me and that I was open to anything really, I even liked a lot of the dresses with bling which surprised me as before going, I wasn’t too keen. I also noted to myself for next time to make sure my hair looked nice and my make-up was done, as it was hard to like anything when you looked like shit. Also, to make sure I took heels, the sort of height I thought I would be wearing as it did make a difference. But try on all different styles, not just one you think you will like, as you will be surprised and probably find the shape that you were not that keen on will be the one. If I was to give any advice to anyone dress hunting, go with an open
