Don't worry my tattoo's don't like you either

Heyy, 

So following last weeks feelings of never having felt so at a loss, thinks are getting better, but seemingly as with everything during Corona, it is slowly, slowly. With Mr Warehouse and I having to postpone our wedding due to the uncertainty and coronavirus threat, making the decision several weeks ago now I was expecting many of the benefits to have taken effect including cramming in more holidays or maybe some more time to expand on my career or side hustle and ake some more money before the inevitable onset of children happens, probably within a year or so of being married. However, with the lack of training opportunities, work scope and growth and most holiday destinations facing some sort of quarantine risk, it's becoming a struggle trying to look on the positive side of things. 

Week fifteen and I am honestly, like most people I think, wondering if and when this will never end; I am well and truly fed up with it all. The BBC released today (Monday 24 August 2020) confirm that there have been more than 320,000 confirmed cases of coronavirus so far in the UK, only climbing 1,000 in the last week. However, with over 41,000 people to have died, government figures show we are still not out of the woods yet. Whilst those figures may seem steep, there have only been four people who have died as a result of Coronavirus in the last 24-hour period in the UK which contributes to a fortnightly decline since the beginning of the month. As I explained several weeks ago, the more that you test and trace this horrible disease, the more people will come back with having contracted it or be known to be infected, asymptomatic or not. It is a statistic that the more cases of detected COVID-19 the more deaths there will be as the Government grapple with the science and the research as we learn new things about it day by day and as the months go one we will be sure to learn even more. 

Anyway, things have been starting to go back to normal now and with everything opening up again I was happy to be heading to the tattoo shop. Planned for May 2020, I had booked in to have a commemorative piece done for the one-year anniversary of little Frankenstien blessing our lives. But Corona had other plans and as tattoo parlours and other establishments got shut down,  so did some puppy-inspired ink. Nevertheless, as the day rolled around I became more and more nervous of the design, what the studio would look like (since I hadn't been there before) and what my artist would be like. But I needn't of worried. 

Gravity Tattoo Shop had graced one of Leighton Buzzard's main street's for sometime now and become a very well established and well-known tattoo studio. The cute and classical design of the shop front instantly makes you feel at ease and at peace with the desicions you have made in life and the ink that shall imbed your skin to reflect them. Knocking the door I was greeted by a lovely young women whose friendly tone instantly made me feel welcome and safe. Decending the stairs I was greeted with a very clean and clinical enviroment, as one would maybe expect from such a place. But the colour and vibrancy was what I noticed first. No black walls and heavily gothy or macarbre vibes. Quite the opposite in fact. Colour everywhere. Pastels and bright neons. Bunting was hanging from the staircase and artwork adorned the walls. I felt very comfortable here. 

Sitting on the couches and "borrowing" dome sweeties left out I forgot for a second that I was not at a kids birthday party and suddenly started to feel a little nervous. Although no sooner had I filled in the welcome forms, I was introduced to my Tatter - Leanne. @leanneleavestattoo as her instagram handle suggests is a tattooist in the making. Her social media is littered with beautiful pieces of work including flowers, animals, insects and some realistic forms of womens bodies, not my taste but beautiful and brave to get done. As we went through the design and what I wanted and how I wanted it to look I was excited and as Leanne set up her station I couldnt help but continue to look upon the vast array of just stuff. Fascinated they had a wall of things ranging from stuffed animals to plant pots and folders all as a dort of Cath Kidston inspiration board in real life (Cath Kidston head office has a "inspiration cabinet" where all the little trinkets and things live so that designers can draw inspiration any time when designing new fabric or item). 

Hopping myself up onto the bench I reminised to the last time I found myself on a massuse bed and how I was the wrong way round for a back, neck and shoulders. Anxiously I looked away as I began yabbering on about my boy (the puppy) and the story on how we ended up getting him. I had barely felt any pain until she reached the centre of my wrist when the vibrations seared up my arm. Not the worst pain I had ever felt, but it was enough for me to go 'Ooohff'. 

"It was like I could feel it rattling up my arm" I said to Leanne, to which she chuckled and said sometimes that happens as it is a really sensative part of the body. 

Soon enough though I was done and as I looked down and in the mirror for the first time it was like I had fallen in love with my Pup all over again. The moment I laid eyes on the black line-work design I was smitten. I couldn't wait to show it off and I could feel myself getting really emotional. Controlling myself I got cleaned up properly and proudly flaunted it to the other artists in the shop. A simple paw print, probably the same size as his, with a crude stitch running through it and Frankenstien bolts either side. The cutest thing I ever did see. Thanking Leanne again I headed out into the sunshine, ink covered and protected. Even now I cant stop staring! Although I must admit I don't think my wrist has seen so much oilling and moisturising, and yet despite this it is now developing an itch. My hands are basically like a slip-and-slide. Suffice to say I am hooked and already planning my next one ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Smile Is The Best Fashion Accessory!

Afternoon, 

So after last weeks torturous and slightly S&M evening with Mr. Masseuse (No Pain, No Gain! - If you haven't read it you need to .. Its Hilarious!!!) I was glad of a somewhat mundane week at work with an uneventful weekend to follow. 

I was not however looking forward to the dentists appointment though. Several weeks ago I had gone for my first check up in over seven-years since I left school, aged sixteen. Terrified as a child after having some surgery and not being given enough drugs to knock me the fuck out I woke half way through the procedure and with eyes flashing wildly to gain the attention of the dental staff I was otherwise paralysed, forced to watch and feel as they drilled and burrowed into my tiny mouth. 

Another reason why I was so frightened of the Dentist as a teen was mainly because the appointments always seemed to crop up on a Wednesday or a Thursday - The days I used to finish school early and meet the boys after school for some more "advance classes" and "extra tuition" if you follow my drift. So scared I was of getting caught in the act I would rush home after one of these "sessions" and brush my teeth in a bid to rid my mouth of any evidence. I don't know why. I was like fifteen and thought that the Dentist would peer into my mouth and turn to my mother and say 
"I am sorry but it looks like your daughter has been sucking dick. What do you propose we do with this then, Hmm?" Genuinely scared, even as I sat in the scary leany-backy chair that they would look at my pearly whites and see residue of something that shouldn't have been there. It humoured me slightly to think that when I was lying in a similar chair on Saturday Morning. 

Preparing myself I had already called the surgery in advance and asked about the procedure and what would happen, what would be done and what I should bring. Of course I knew all the answers myself and in all honesty could have easily saved not only my time and lunch break but also my dignity, especially when I asked if someone could come in and hold my hand. And yes, just to remind you I will be twenty-four in nearly a months time! 

Saturday morning I awoke and rolled over to a bemused Mr. Warehouse. 
"What exactly is so funny?" I asked croakily through tousled bed hair and blurred vision. 
"Today is the day!" Mr. Warehouse chirped and after asking what he was on about a shuddering noise rang through me, knocking out any hope of a cheeky lye-in. It was Mr. Warehouse - Making drilling noises and humming the Jaws theme tune. And as he nonchalantly laughed off his lad-ish "banter" I secretly made a mental note not to place anything in long and hard in my mouth other than a toothbrush before 9am. 

Getting up and dressed I bought time by Googling pointless things of interest like Puppies and John Wayne Gacy paintings (If you haven't seen them or even know who he is then I give you permission to seek out your inner sicko and Google this man and his heinous crimes) - Yes I have a fluctuating mindset sometimes. Nevertheless it was soon time to leave but as I made my way out of my flat, followed shortly by Mr. Warehouse I was yet again greeted by the deathly hum's growling form Mr. Warehouse's voice box, of which I was very close to ripping out. He was not very nice to me that day!

Arriving at the surgery, again like the last time I visited it was baking hot and I was thankful for the empty waiting room and friendly receptionist. Unlike last time I came for a check up, whereby I was over forty-minutes early because Mr. Warehouse had rushed me out the door, I only had a few moments to wait before I was called for. And so, up the wooden staircase I ascended, dramatically thinking as I always do that I may never return and I somehow may meet my death in a Sweeney Todd Style Murder a la Dental Practise. But as soon as I walked into the room and was greeted with the same, slightly foreign and overly-made-up dentist I was at ease - slightly!?

As the chair reclined once more I opened my mouth wide and stuck in my headphones with a preplanned playlist consisting of mostly club but certainly all loud songs ranging from guilty pleasure hit "Don't Call Me Baby - Madison Avenue" to the 2003 smash "Milkshake - Kelis" and even a new favourite of mine "Gimme Head - Shystie" which is vocally, erm, interesting, but more importantly would definitely take my mind of Miss Tooth-Decay drilling away in my moush. But as I felt the prickly jab of the needle going into my gums, flooding my mouth with local anaesthetic, I tried to relax. Liking the fact I had already put together a compilation of my favourite tunes for my impending doom at the Dental Surgery. I even got a chance to relax enough to tap my toes to a few beats. I had somewhat even started to enjoy the drilling sensation and started to play silly games like running away from the mini-sucky-thing they use! 

But before I had even got a chance to get to some of the better song on my playlist of pleasantness the chair was re-clining back up to an upright position. Taking my headphones off my ear holes I asked if that was it. My kind Dentist friend nodded and went on to say how well I did. "I wonder if I am going to get one of those overly-sized stickers for being such a good girl today?" I thought to myself as I listened to her saying something about flossing more. Woozy from the injections and sudden, unexpected right-angle position I found myself in I exclaimed that I felt like a cat, feeling my swollen face and cheeks, checking that I didn't in fact look like a balloon. Thanking my Dentist and nurse I exited the room and descended the stairs, without the body bag and still very much alive. As I turned into the main staircase there he was, Mr. Warehouse, waiting patiently for me with a concerned yet proud look on his face. I knew he had not been there for the full time I had been in but I appreciated the little white lie he told me, despite not being able to uphold it later on when questioned. I made an appointment for February next year and promised to see them soon. I don't know if I will go in six months for sure, but rest assured I am slightly less scared of the Dentist, although I am not fully cured. I will now be on my way to alleviate any more worry and have a giggle by Googling tooth fetishes and dental depravities. Good Night Mon Frere's!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx