As the Divinyls said, it’s a fine line between pleasure and pain*.
I think between all the times I injure myself, my arthritis, and some sad childhood moments, I have a really high pain tolerance. Sometimes this is a bad thing. Like (hypothetically) if I push too hard on a recovering ACL surgery-ed knee and end up not being able to be any-kind-of-active for a month during recovery. But, sometimes, high pain thresholds come in handy.
This weekend I performed at Curious Comedy Theater in the show Fit to Print, where we take news articles selected by the audience, read them and then rif off of them for improv scenes. It’s super fun. When I go to Curious Comedy I often have already eaten, but Saturday night, I had not yet done so. I ordered some chilaquiles (it was cheat day) and also had some popcorn during the most excellent Ruby Rocket (a really fun show that is a noir-ish mystery partially improvised with audience members and written/acted by the inimitable Stacey Hallal). Then after Fit to Print I went home to get to bed so that I could get some sleep before an early morning Bridge to Brews 10K (the run was wonderful!).
It wasn’t until 1PM on Sunday, when I was on my way to an appointment and wanted a coffee, that I realized I’d left my tab open at Curious Comedy, and left my debit card. I wasn’t worried about the safety of it. I was worried about paying for my coffee and my pending appointment. I had no idea when I would be able to retrieve the card. I contacted the box office manager on her cell phone and begged her to bring me my card.
I also magically found $20 in my jeans pocket so I could buy a coffee. I know this was magic, or a miracle of God, because I am the epitome of a plastic girl living in a plastic world. I NEVER carry cash. And when I do have cash, because someone gave it to me – most likely to make a liar out of me saying I NEVER carry cash – I spend it almost immediately (this is another reason I don’t carry cash. It’s like if I have cash I feel like I have to find someone to give it to.).
This is my third time being tattooed and is the largest piece I have. It’s going to take a fair amount of sittings because it is large and going to be colored in. My last piece took very little time and the first even less. But, each were so long ago I had no recall of what tattooing felt like.
It feels like someone is taking a vibrating needle and dragging it through my skin. I don’t even mean that to be funny. That is what it feels like. There are some spots that are more painful then others. Overall, however, it was not that painful of an experience. In fact, until my friend Randi showed up with my credit card that I had left at the theater, I was reading.
This morning I expected pain, or itching. But, really, it feels a little like a mild, healing, sunburn. I think that a life of pain and klutziness has amounted to an ability to withstand a good amount of pain. In this case, it was a blessing.
*I know you probably only remember her saying that she touches herself.