Getting a tattoo is a big decision. You’re permanently marking your body, and it’s something you’ll ideally live with for a long time. People get tattoos for all sorts of reasons: to commemorate something, to express themselves, or just because they think it looks cool. Lately, there’s been a trend, shall we say, towards more…unconventional tattoo placements. And yes, we’re talking about the butthole tattoo.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Butthole tattoo? Seriously?” And honestly, that was my first reaction too. But in the spirit of open-mindedness and, well, content creation, I decided to delve into this topic. I even considered getting one myself – purely for research purposes, of course! My friend Clifton, who works at Leviticus Tattoo in Minneapolis (amazing place, seriously), was kind enough to walk me through the process, or at least the theoretical process, of getting inked in such a…sensitive area.
I’ve had tattoos before, and people always describe the sensation as “a slight burning” or “a little sting.” So, going into this “research,” I was expecting something manageable. I envisioned lying face down, maybe putting on some calming music, and just zoning out while Clifton did his thing. Boy, was I wrong. Even thinking about the possibility of a tattoo in that area made me realize this was a whole different ball game.
The reality is, getting a tattoo, anywhere, is going to involve needles. And getting a tattoo near…well, you know…is going to be even more intense. It’s not a “slight burning sensation.” Let’s be real, it feels like a hot razor slowly carving into your…you get the picture.
Immediately, my brain was screaming, “Abort! Abort!” This was not the “slightly spicy” experience I was led to believe. But then the questions started swirling. How could I back out now? I’d already mentally committed to this “research.” Plus, what would Clifton and the cool folks at Leviticus think? They’re probably doing way more intense tattoos all day long and not batting an eye.
Quitting felt like admitting defeat. I had to push through.
About ten minutes into this mental rollercoaster – which felt like an eternity – I had to mentally tap out. I needed a break from just thinking about it. I confessed to Clifton that I had severely underestimated the potential discomfort. My respect for people with any tattoos, especially those in…bold locations, skyrocketed. I needed a moment to regroup and process the unexpected level of “ouch” I was anticipating.
I started questioning my own sanity. Why was I being such a wimp? I actually consider myself to have a pretty high pain tolerance. I’ve pushed myself physically in the past, enjoyed endurance challenges, even embraced the “no pain, no gain” mentality. But that kind of pain always had a purpose. Running a marathon? The purpose was the finish line, the personal achievement.
But what’s the purpose of this potential…butthole tattoo pain? To get a tattoo in a place that, let’s be honest, most people will never see? The “cool” factor seemed to diminish rapidly when confronted with the reality of the potential pain. A tattoo “down there” might be…interesting, maybe even a little edgy. But was it worth the searing razor blade sensation? The scales were tipping towards a resounding “no.”
All that was left was my pride. But even that felt flimsy. Why should I care what anyone thinks about my pain tolerance when it comes to…this? It felt absurd.
Just as I was spiraling into an existential crisis about butthole tattoos, Clifton mentioned we should get back to it if we wanted to “finish in one session.” Even as I was hesitantly nodding, a voice in my head was screaming, “This is utterly ridiculous!”
And then, ironically, that’s where I found my twisted motivation. Yes, it is absurd to even contemplate this level of pain for a tattoo that’s essentially a secret. But maybe, just maybe, that’s the point. Maybe it’s time to step away from the perfectly reasonable, predictable parts of life and do something utterly, unapologetically absurd. Maybe it’s about embracing the pain simply to prove…something. Even if that something is just that you can handle it.
So, I mentally swapped out the calming music for something a little more…intense. Let’s just say Slipknot entered the playlist. Apologies to anyone seeking tranquility, but contemplating a butthole tattoo definitely felt like a Slipknot moment. I cranked up the volume, maybe even grabbed a sugary candy for moral support, and mentally said to Clifton (and to the idea itself), “Bring it on.”
I’m not going to lie and say the fear magically vanished. It didn’t. And I didn’t actually go through with the butthole tattoo, in case that wasn’t clear. But in that moment, facing the absurdity of it all, I found a strange sense of…empowerment. The razor blade sensation in my imagination didn’t suddenly become a “pleasant tickle.” It still sounded intensely unpleasant. But the “bring-it-on” attitude helped me mentally survive the rest of the…thought experiment.
And now, reflecting on this whole bizarre mental journey, I’m actually glad I was initially naive about the potential discomfort. If I had truly grasped the reality from the start, I probably would have dismissed the idea immediately. But now that I’ve mentally “gone there,” well, I might as well admit it: I feel just a little bit…badass, even without the actual butthole tattoo. Maybe just considering it is enough.
Next post: Maybe I’ll actually talk about tattoo aftercare. Or maybe not. Who knows what other absurd tattoo placements we can explore?
