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.