I really want to do the Naked Bike Ride tomorrow. Not because, as some of the comments on this website have suggested, I am either weird or gay (does it really matter, though?), but because I really think the world needs to start doing something about its terrible oil habit.

If getting nekkid and cycling around the city is one way of raising awareness to that, then why not? Sounds like a giggle. There are two problems, however:

1. My brake pads are worn down to the metal after several months of haring down Carden Hill and Surrenden Road on my way back from The Argus.

2. I'm not allowed to expose my back to the sun for a while lest it becomes hypopigmented and I end up with a white ghost of my tattoo.

The solution, I suppose, is to wrap something around my waist and wear shoes so I can use my feet as brakes. Doesn't sound altogether safe though...

As a science geek, I am usually a bit of a stickler for things like peer reviewed studies and evidence and stuff like that. But I'm also wont to the occasional flight of fancy and am pretty fond of making my own stuff up - like my latest obsession with hot yoga, which I have decided will speed up the whole tattoo-takey-offey process.

The idea with the laser treatment is it shatters the ink particles, making them small enough for your body to dispose of naturally. In my head, the exercise and sweat of hot yoga speeds up that disposal process, not because of any real evidence, just because I've decided it should be that way. Of course, I can't even test my theory because I can't do hot yoga with only half my body and leave the other half as a control.

Regardless of my ridiculous brain, it has actually really helped the scab heal. It's not been nearly as itchy as it was last time and a week after the treatment it's nearly gone already. Alas that means it's time to go back for another treatment, so I'm off to find myself an anaesthetic cream.

...and I'm back. Jackie from Inspire called the other day to tell me their new premises are up and running and it is time to go back for more tattoo zapping. If I'm honest, the embarrassment of wriggling around squealing like a girl at the last session made me a little hesitant about going back. Even Mr Me noticed I had been whinging less about my tat than normal, but the only other option is walking around with a slightly removed tattoo for the rest of my life.



So here is today's lesson: when you are feeling even slightly hormonal, do not go and have lasers fired at you. As you can see from the pic, Jackie only managed to cover half the top area before I had crawled into foetal position and was begging her to stop. I think she thought I was crying. I wasn't, I was laughing. It is a rather ridiculous response I have to such inappropriate things as: pain, arguments, death, and people falling over.

Anyway, we did a bit, and Jackie smiled very sweetly even though secretly she must have thought I was a crazy lady, and the photos show the ink in the previously treated area is disappearing - very exciting!

I have been ill for a couple of weeks so I decided not to have any more treatments until I was feeling on top form. Since I'm all better now I just called the clinic to book an appointment. They are moving premises and cannot operate again until the new space get a license from the Healthcare Commission. It may take some weeks they say, so alas, no more tattoo removal for me for while.

In the meantime, the scabs have healed on the larger section I had treated about four weeks ago and apart from a little bit around the edges there does not seem to be any difference. The area I had patch tested a year ago has faded considerably though, so I am hopeful yet.

I have begun to get a bit worried about scarring. The laser treatment itself doesn't scar but it does show up the damage caused by the actual tattooing. I know it would be too much to hope it would be gone without a trace but I have been wondering what kind of mess it will leave behind. Would it have been better to leave it alone?

Apparently it is the ink shattering that causes the pain, not the actual laser beam, and as the ink fades the pain gets less - don't you think that is amazing? That is, like, science in action. Anyway, I am pleased about the pain thing because I have discovered I am a complete girly wus when it comes to pain.

I had my first proper treatment last night. Sarah, the lady with the laser, did the top red squiggly bits and the two black side squiggly bits (pictures are on their way - I will synchronise blog posts and photos as time goes on, promise). It hurt. I broke out in a sweat. I breathed like I was in labour (or how women on the telly breath when the are in telly labour) and once or twice asked her to stop. I am so rubbish!

Sarah noticed I had a faded area from a patch test I had about a year ago. I chickened out of continuing with the treatment then because I couldn't decide whether I wanted the tattoo to be there or not. I still don't really know, but I was sick of dithering so made a decision. Quite possibly, someone of my mercurial nature should never have been thinking about tattoos in the first place.

I spent the evening with my t-shirt tucked into my bra because it stung when it brushed against my back, and I ended up wearing a zippy hoodie backwards, so my back could be open to the air but my front could stay warm. It ended up being a rather glamorous open back cowl neck kind of affair, if I do say so myself.

Here is my tattoo in the flesh. If it looks a little unfinished that is because it is. The red was the first stage of a whole new bit but pretty much as soon as it was done I realised it was perhaps not the right thing to have been doing.



Here is where I had my patch test, it looks a bit red and swollen, which it is, but other than that not a lot to see.