It was my first time at the Edinburgh Fringe.
I walked into the tattoo parlour outside my hostel, asked if they could do this for me and got an appointment.
I woke up at 3am the next week to watch the sunrise from Arthur's Seat, downed a bottle of water, then made my way to get my skin changed.
I'd hated my arms because of the scars on them. It was the only thing I could focus on, especially when they caught the light.
But now, the rising sun in a goblet and a crescent moon in a drawstring bag are the first thing that people see.
As I was lying there with the artist working away, I thought:
Why would I ever want to hurt myself purposefully to create something I will always hate, when I could be in pain for a few hours to come out with something I will love for the rest of my life?
written by diggie