Especially if you're not a fan of tattoos (don't worry, Shepherd K, I still love you), but I'm super excited about my new tattoos. I had an appointment set for them way back in March, but "my" guy had a family emergency and had to reschedule. The problem is, it takes six weeks to get in with him to begin with. Yes, he's that good.
I finally was able to reschedule for the 23rd, which happens to be Monster's 17th birthday, but I don't think I'll tell him that I've booked my new tats for that day. Shhh...
Before my first tattoo, I would have sworn I'd never get one. Ever. Not even on a dare. And then we went to Las Vegas for Staci's bachelorette party. Robs and Nebalee went to a tattoo shop; Robs came out with the cutest little tattoo on her skinny little ankle that means "dream" (we think anyway, it's a Chinese character, who knows what it actually means) and Nebalee came out with her nose pierced. I was too chicken-shit to even step foot inside the tattoo shop.
A year later, I hit a gawdawful depression. I couldn't see my way out. Everything just seemed hopeless. Breathing hurt, it was only by sheer willpower that I was able to get out of bed to take care of the kids and go to work. Even that was iffy. I knew I needed to do something to remind myself that even though things appeared to be bad, there was always hope and I had to hold onto it.
I decided I needed a permanent reminder that there's always hope, so I talked my dad into paying for a small tattoo - the Chinese character for hope (again, I think that's what it means, but since I don't read Chinese, it could say anything). I was terrified of the pain and the needles, but I really felt that I had to do something permanent. So I sucked it up and went. I was in and out of the chair in less than fifteen minutes. The tattoo itself took about eight minutes. It was a smart move, getting that "hope" tattoo; it's carried me through some tough times. But I never thought I'd get another one.
Fast forward five or six years and I met RCC. I really admired his tattoo. Okay, maybe admired isn't the right word. He appeared so straight-laced and even-keeled that when I first saw the hint of a tattoo coming up over his shoulder it was so freaking HOT! I still get butterflies when I think about the first time I realized he had a tattoo.
I'd seen some of his artwork and knew that he was "the one", so I asked him to design me a tattoo. I left him total creative freedom. I was astounded when he came up with my GunDiva tattoo and immediately fell in love with it.
I swore it was going to be my last tattoo.
But then Estes got so sick and almost died last year and I started thinking about a tattoo to remember her by. I personally hate portrait tattoos, so that was out of the question. I wasn't sure what I was going to do and then I came up with the idea of having her brand tattooed on my shoulder. And then I realized I couldn't put my four-legged child's brand on me without doing the two-legged kids' brand. So...next week I'll be getting branded, in a manner of speaking. Not at all like what Digger and Monster did last year.*
*Disclaimer: I found out about Monster's dumbassery long after it was healed.