It hurts to look at it, but it is finally finished. I think it hurt even more this time, maybe because I forgot about the pain, much like childbirth I am told. I made lots of impressive faces, but I stayed fairly still the entire time. I have now passed over to the other side. I am now of the tattooed tribe. My life is all new, with this brand new body, and the chance to start over. It is a fantastic rebirth, and I am so glad to be here. Thank you to the “DON” of tattooing, Don Ed Hardy and his lovely wife Francesca Passalacqua, and my friends Forbes, Suhaila and of course, Andre, cameos from Dave and Karen from Moongirl (who make the most awesome clothing and cute cute cute bags with felt doggies), filmmaker and Hardyologist Emiko Omori and the all-hottie staff at TattooCitySF. I love my tattoo!!! It is the best thing I have ever put on and I am never taking it off.

I meet Forbes and Ed at Tattoo City on Lombard early in the afternoon. Ed first makes a drawing on my body, for placement of the tattoo. It looks so great I want it on me right then! I am lucky because after so many years of being the tattoo maestro, Ed wants to focus more on his painting, and do less tattooing. He still does it of course, but he doesn’t do the epic pieces he is known for anymore. He says that mine will be the last one!

The needles are at hand, but Forbes and Suhaila are keeping me calm and happy. The room is crowded with love and anticipation, and we are starting. When the tattoo gun hits my skin, I am surprised at the pain. I didn’t think it would hurt so much. The peony is centered right at the base of my spine, where the nerves are outraged at the unusual stimulation. Ed has a gentle touch, and works quickly, but it still feels like my skin is being scraped off my skeleton. I keep looking up at Forbes and Suhaila for reassurance, and that makes it better – but then it goes on again and wow! It really hurts. I almost start crying at the cutting feeling, the way it shoots sparks of pain up into my arms and down my legs. I am so very alive and I feel it quite keenly. The searing sensation is really bad over my rib cage. The tattoo gun vibrates the skin directly on the bone, which feels like a dentist’s drill being used as a murder weapon. It is unbearable, but I am bearing it.

And then it’s over. The time goes by quickly, and it’s a good thing. Half of the outline is finished, and the beautiful peony and one snake are bandaged up for the night. We go to dinner in North Beach, with Ed’s fantastic wife Francesca, and I can’t stop laughing and sneezing. I seem to have come down with the worst allergies ever. But I can’t stop smiling, even though my nose is running.

The illustrious Don Ed Hardy is doing my tattoo. He did Forbes, many years ago, and I have been a fan ever since. He made the world of tattooing what it is today, bringing the traditional Japanese imagery from the vibrant outlaw tattoo culture of the samurai and blending it with old school nautical themes, while at the same time making huge innovations in technique, introducing the tribal phenomenon, editing, curating, teaching, learning, growing, of course tattooing, and all in all, making great strides in establishing tattooing as a fine art form. He lives in Hawaii and commutes to his shop in San Francisco, called Tattoo City.

San Francisco is tattoo city, so the name is sweetly appropriate. Because of Don Ed Hardy’s incredible influence and vision, the best tattooists in the world have set up shop here, and the city dwellers sport some of most impressive artwork around. It’s my hometown, so I never need an excuse to go up there. Forbes hooked us up, and I was fortunate enough to get a little time with Ed, in the midst of my own hectic schedule. The most challenging thing about the whole process was scheduling, since I am all over the place all the time and so is Ed, but miraculously it worked out so well, I can only conclude it was meant to be.

Ed designed a beautiful back piece for me, a very large and lush peony (my name in Korean – “Moran”) with two snakes curling around a branch of cherry blossoms, with falling petals. The snakes curl around to the front, and then back again. They have a dear and protective disposition, and I am proud to wear them for life.

Before heading to Tattoo City, Suhaila and I spent all morning at her home in Kensington, where she let her snake Pierre rest on my shoulders. I am terrified of snakes, but I love them too. I had never held one, but Suhaila said that since I am going to be wearing not one, but two, for the rest of my life, I had better get used to it now. Pierre was gentle, curious, climbing up and down my back and shoulders, his long, black licorice tongue darting out to catch snippets of conversation. His boa constrictor body supple and fine, slowly settled in the valley between my breasts and around my neck. His triangle head rested on my hand, and every once in a while, his tongue would dart out and lightly surprise my fingers. He liked me, I think.

Snakes are magnificent creatures, like nothing else on earth. I don’t know why I am afraid of them. Possibly because they are so different, mysterious and unknowable, unpredictable. But on my back, they will be my protectors, my guardians, my cheerleaders and my friends.