I have two tattoos. You know this. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you don’t even care. And here I am, taking away from you REAL posts to show you some pictures. I should be ashamed of myself.
Let’s ignore my obvious need for a pedicure, which was actually on The Almighty Schedule for the weekend. With extenuating circumstances being what they were, the prospect of paying someone to touch my foot was ridiculous at best, recockulous at worst (oh yes, yes I did).
So, for my 22nd birthday, I done got myself a tattoo. On my right foot.
It’s a reminder, actually, to be true to who I am. The lizard DOES have a meaning, and not just “I like Southwestern Stuff!!!”
Here is My Left Foot (a.k.a. Big Pimpin’)
So this is the swollen bad foot, adorned with an adorable pink seahorse. You can kinda see the bruising and swelling. It’s kinda wicked cool. It’s also kinda hard to see from this angle.
I got this tattoo on my 25th birthday, about a month before I fooled The Daver into marrying me. At the same time, he got a tattoo, too. Actual conversation between me and the dude doing my tattoo:
Me: How’s he doing?
Tattoo Dude: He looks fine. Almost done.
Me: Is he okay?
TD: Well, shit. He looks pale.
Me: Oh no!
(I peer over at Daver who is now standing up)
Me: Hahahaha! That’s just how he looks. Pale.
The seahorse commemorates my single years, my Seahorse Period, if I may (and I always may) and reminds me that I was good at being single. In case, you know, I find myself single again someday.
Okay, so let me preemptively answer a couple questions before I ask for YOUR tattoo stories:
1) Did it hurt?
What do you think? I don’t have fat feet, nor are they particularly muscular, which means the tattoo needle was going over and over on my bones and tendons.
It hurt like fuck. Like worse than childbirth.
2) Why the HELL do you have tattoos on your fucking feet? That’s a dumb place to put them.
Well, sort of dumb. But kind of brilliant. See, I CAN HIDE THEM EASILY. If I want to be professional (stop laughing) all I have to do is to put on real shoes. It also is in an area that won’t stretch too much, so I won’t distort them before I’m too old to give a shit.
Okay, your turn. I want stories.