A New Experience

Life is about the experience. At least that's the thought that creeps into your mind when you get to my age. The experiences you have are what shape you as a person. I happen to like who i am as a person and tend to enjoy the ride my experiences have brought to me thus far. Of course, there are some I'm not real fond of but over all i don't guess i can complain. There was one thing i had wanted to experience for quite some time, yet being a chicken shit i always talked myself out of it. I would think "I really want to do this." then think some more to conclude "Nah, maybe not." Last Saturday night i decided, what the hell. I'm not going to think about it, I'm just going to go. No, I'm not talking about anything as extreme as sky diving. It's actually pretty common, but it involves something I'm not real fond of....Needles. Yes, a woman who has given birth 3 times fears something as silly as a needle.

So as we arrive at the location and i pick out what it is i want, my stomach starts turning. I know if i can get in the room and get started i wont stop, we are not going to have me partially marked here, I'm way to hard headed for that. They introduce me to who will be doing the artwork and all i can do is chuckle to myself. He cant be much older than my own child. Is his attention span even long enough to focus on this task? 15 years ago i probably would have batted my eyes thinking he is absolutely precious, now all i can do is close my eyes and hope his fine motor skills are fully formed.

There i sit on an arm rest, my feet planted firmly in a chair, pants undone, bent over holding my knees. The young man in charge of my experience was precious and tried making jokes to ease my tension.
"So, I'm going to be your first, huh?" He says. I'm thinking that probably happened around the time you were born, of course i keep that thought to myself. He is in charge of the needle you know.
"Yes, i suppose you are. Be gentle." See, i can joke back. Even though this conversation seems very odd considering I'm thinking he is almost close enough in age to have come from my body. I'm finding myself having to hold back asking the questions you would ask your kid. Things like "Did you use soap?", "Don't forget your ears. Did you wash them?"

Thank God that about the time he complemented my underwear he stuck that damn needle in my back. I couldn't do anything more than hold my breath. It wasn't really that bad but the idea of that needle chugging along my back made me nervous as hell. Not to mention i wasn't sure of his attention span and didn't want to offer any distraction. It wasn't until he hit my tailbone i began to think this was probably the dumbest idea i have had in a long time. Now i am not going to lie to you people, it hurt like hell. Was it as bad as giving birth? No! But it was not comfortable. It was less than an hour when he informed me we were all done. I'm thinking, "Oh, shit. He has forgotten some. I knew he was to young to focus for any length of time." I look in the mirror to confirm my suspicion. Nope, he got it all and damn if it doesn't look good. I could hug this kid.

I'm feeling pretty proud of myself when I walk out of there. So I do what any grown woman of my age would do.
I call my mom. (giggle)