So, I finally did it. I got a tattoo. I’ve wanted to for a while, but it’s hard to decide what you want to display on your body for the rest of your life. I settled on an icon that has lasted nearly a hundred years: The Hungry Tiger of Oz.
He first appeared in 1907 in L. Frank Baum’s Ozma of Oz. With the Cowardly Lion, he pulls the royal chariot of girl monarch Ozma. Dorothy meets him in chapter eight.
“Oh! Are you hungry?” she asked, turning to the other beast, who was just then yawning so widely that he displayed two rows of terrible teeth and a mouth big enough to startle anyone.
“Dreadfully hungry,” answered the Tiger, snapping his jaws together with a fierce click.
“Then why don’t you eat something?” she asked.
“It?s no use,” said the Tiger sadly. “I’ve tried that, but I always get hungry again.”
“Why, it is the same with me,” said Dorothy. “Yet I keep on eating.”
“But you eat harmless things, so it doesn’t matter,” replied the Tiger. “For my part, I’m a savage beast, and have an appetite for all sorts of poor little living creatures, from a chipmunk to fat babies.”
“How dreadful!” said Dorothy.
“Isn’t it, though?” returned the Hungry Tiger, licking his lips with his long red tongue. “Fat babies! Don’t they sound delicious? But I’ve never eaten any, because my conscience tells me it is wrong. If I had no conscience I would probably eat the babies and then get hungry again, which would mean that I had sacrificed the poor babies for nothing. No; hungry I was born, and hungry I shall die. But I’ll not have any cruel deeds on my conscience to be sorry for.”
“I think you are a very good tiger,” said Dorothy, patting the huge head of the beast.
I got the tattoo at Redemption Tattoo in Cambridge. Erick Lynch did a fantastic job! I highly recommend him, if you are in the market for a really good artist.
My friend Jamie went with me to get a Chinese symbol meaning “peace” on the back of her neck, which took all of 10 minutes. Even mine took only about an hour, which I found really surprising. But the best part was when the guy from the front desk popped in to deliver a message to Erick.
“Your mom called. She’ll call back later.”
How can you not love a tattoo artist who gets a call from his mom at work?
I was really surprised that it didn’t hurt all that much. Sure it was like a constant pricking, but not even as bad as a shot at the doctor’s or getting blood taken. And the vibration of the pen was kinda nice. So, my advice is: if you want to get a tattoo, get the size, design, and placement right. It really doesn’t matter how little it hurts if it’s all wrong, so don’t get a tiny one just to avoid the pain. It’s still a pretty damned permanent commitment.
Just don’t ask Erick to draw a straight line around your leg. Apparently, the stencil is a pain to mold around body parts that aren’t perfectly cylindrical.
“You’re not a can of Coke!” he told one young customer. “Why do I always get this geometric shit?!”