Yep I actually did it. My first act of rebellion (that I will publicly admit anyway) at age 33 with some permanent ink. I’m just glad I didn’t do a spring break dolphin on my abdomen which would’ve been awesome when pregnant and would now look like a sad and saggy humpback whale. I never said I’d get inked as there was never anything that I’d really want on me forever. I also said I’d never marry a guy from Trenton (which has great perks when it comes to kids and holidays), drive a blue Mazda (Mazda 3 now with 120,000 miles) or ever dreamed parenting would put us on the journey that it did. This seemed a fitting tribute and unless I have dementia and think there’s crap on my foot when I’m shuffling around the nursing home, I think it’s a fitting tribute that I don’t mind sporting. Forever. (Still freaking out a wee bit) I figure since I can’t get grounded at 33, now is as good a time as any to go ahead and post my new art work.
And if you wonder if it hurt, holy mother €>€|~^~&$&$?:. Yes it did. The other 2 folks getting work done sat very calmly in their chairs getting zapped while I clenched Clay’s knuckles and practiced Lamaze breathing while getting repeatedly told to hold still. I probably wasn’t the best customer to have sitting right at the front door and I’m pretty certain I won’t be going back for another.
So if you decide to get inked, my advice is take a shot of whiskey, bring a leather strap to bite on and please, please spell check before you go. I’m just happy mine didn’t turn out like any of these.
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