Tattoo Removal

     I just finished my first laser treatment to eliminate the tattoo on my ass.  I was inclined to have it excised–it’s very tiny, and I sort of like the idea of having a small scar left behind…symbolic, you know?–but the doctor talked me out of it.  

      When the Surgeon put the tattoo on me, I expressed that I hoped nobody would be able to see it unless they were really looking (I don’t like tattoos). 

      He glanced up from his work.  The green eyes took in my face:  “You’re lucky I’m not putting it on your lower arm.”

       At the time, the reference went right over my head.  I only just remembered it at the dermatologist’s office this morning.  

       I got a chill, and my skin broke out in gooseflesh.

       (The Surgeon is not a Gentile.) 

                             *                           *                         *

        It is impossible to retain personal pride and be the Surgeon’s girlfriend.  As anyone who knows him can tell you (even his patients), humiliation is part and parcel of the relationship, and if you don’t like it, well, too bad.  Most of the significant fights we had were because sometimes I stood up for myself and didn’t back down, and oh boy did he ever punish me for it.  Insubordination was a capital offense, as far as he was concerned.  

       Over the years, I became very good at groveling.  I look back on it, and I’m shocked at how submissive he made me feel, at how deep the need was that he provoked within me. I had zero boundaries with that man.  Nothing was forbidden.   Nothing was withheld.  

       Sometimes I try to empathize with him and imagine what it must have been like to be in his position when we were having sex.  I’m imaginative, but it’s still pretty hard for me to picture the male perspective.  It must have been intoxicating for him, and very validating, because he was still obsessed with me five years into the relationship and usually he gets bored with women after just a few months, or even weeks.  

      He’d look down at me, pinned underneath him and trembling, and the expression of lust and hunger on his face would take my breath away.  I’ve had plenty of dudes look at me as if I was a jar of cookies.  This was a whole other level.  This was a junkie eyeing a big bag of smack.  

      “You will belong to me FOREVER!”

      You probably think that sounds cheesy, but let me tell you, he said it with complete conviction.  When he said it, I believed it.

     “Tell me what you are,” he’d ask.  He liked to hear the words.  It excited him profoundly.  

      “I’m your property!  You own me!  I love you!”

      “What can I do to you?”

       I knew all the words.  I knew all the answers by heart.  We’d been through this catechism many, many times.  And oh, it was pure bliss.  

       “You can do anything you want to me anything anything I love you I need it so much please please can I come please?”

       “You may,” he’d say, and I did, over and over again.  He was withholding in every other way, but he was a very generous lover with me.  He always made sure I was satisfied, always dominated me the way that I needed him to.  He learned how to use all the tools.  I had to teach him most of it, but he learned very fast, and he learned very well.  He was a natural-born sadist and a very talented man.  He was also very coordinated, with a great degree of fine motor skill.  He moved fast, thought fast.  I loved watching him move.  He was very graceful.  He would stalk me on the street sometimes, come up behind me, and I wouldn’t see him or hear him until he wanted me to.  Sometimes he’d follow me for blocks.  He loved it.  It was a game to him.  

        We’d act it out formally sometimes, actually, almost like a game of hide-and-seek…he’d give me a head start, and I’d leave the apartment or hotel and get on the street, and then he’d find me without knowing where I was going.  He’d find me fast, too…unless he wanted to take his time.  

         I told one of my female friends about this game of his.  She found it disturbing, but I always just thought it was cute.  

      I’m lonely.  My laser-treated skin hurts.  If the Surgeon ever found out that I took his tattoo off, he’d kill me.  

8 thoughts on “Tattoo Removal”

  1. I’m going to go with your friend on the hide-and-seek thing. Doing it formally sounds kind of fun, but doing it unexpectedly when you’re not aware of it strays more into the creepy territory for me.

    And your mention of laser tattoo removal led to me spending a good chunk of my evening searching for images of said process, and then pondering the stories behind the many examples. Why did they get that particular drawing? And why did they get it removed? I feel short-changed by the lack of context on all the image I found. Somebody should really start a tumblr for this!

    Anyway, hope your treatment works out OK and stops hurting in the very near future.


  2. Hi paltego;

    Thanks for dropping by!

    The Surgeon could definitely be creepy. He was a strange man.

    A good tattoo blog I know of is called “Ugliest Tattoos: The Gallery of Regrets.” You can find it via google. Don’t forget your barf bags. OMG. It’s funny, too. People get tattoos of, say, pizza slices of dialogue from the Twilight movies.

    Happily, the dermatologist anticipates that my laser treatments will be completely successful. My tattoo is half the size of a dime and the Surgeon got a machine and did it himself, so it’s superficial–the pigment isn’t deep in the skin. It was mostly a symbolic gesture.

    Thanks for reading!


  3. I had to look at the keyword to make sure that was an old event.

    Are you on your way to the 1-month A-A token?

    Did you consider sending the bat-signal to the dynamic duo: Jim and Peter?

  4. Anon: Fear not, the Surgeon tattooed me a few years ago. I never told you because, well REALLY, what could I say…? Not exactly the proudest moment for a wanna-be feminist.

    Jim and Peter were awesome, but Peter got hitched, so there you go.

    I heartily recommend that you experience that dynamic before you die, my friend. SO MUCH FUN!!! RAWR!

    1. Three things I wanted to experience. I did one. The second could be done (older woman). Third one, on the receiving end of that dynamic, will not happen. I am past the period of one’s life when it could happen…

    2. …unless I paid for it on a business trip.

      I do not live a life of mystery and intrigue. Nothing to write a blog about.

    3. Well, yes, paying is definitely an option, but not the only one. You’re an attractive individual.

      Paying for it would be safest, though. Not sure how you feel about that, so I cannot recommend for or against.

      And I don’t live a life of mystery and intrigue, either! Just lying married math jerks, dungeon wackadoodles, and a community college that makes me teach on an overhead projector!

  5. You are NOT “past the period of one’s life…”! Get real!

    Trust me on this; I know what I’m talking about…If the Surgeon could do it, you could!

    Beside: just 3 things?! I still have lots, and you know what a libertine I’be been…

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