I didn’t get tattoos to rebel against my mother, who hates them with a passion normally reserved for Rush Limbaugh and canned gravy, but I got them because I needed a way to remind myself of the things that are important. Not, as you might imagine, “PANTS FIRST, THEN SHOES,” which might have saved me a ton of hassle and confusion over the years, but more important things*.
I’ll keep it rather brief, since I think I’ve gone into more painfully boring detail before.
This is my seahorse, and it’s on my foot as you can see by my AWESOME pedicure. I could have cropped out my toes which I did in THIS POST, where I went into more graphic detail about the meaning of this one. Basically, it’s there to remind me that I can function JUST FINE on my own.
My first tattoo is this:
Also captured here (and why I chose this very crappy picture) is my fucking SWEET ASS phone. You wish it was yours, DON’T LIE. Anyway, this one has a really long story behind it and it’s not just because “I like Southwestern Stuff!!”
Pretty much, it’s on my foot to remind me that no matter what happens, I need to be true to myself. I’ve learned this one the hard way over and over again and now, well, it’s a permanent fixture on my person.
Foot tattoos, while they hurt like a mother-fucker are Full of The Awesome because when the need arises, you can simply pop a sock on and tattoos are covered! Insta-respectability! Like real estate it’s all about location, location, location. Plus, it was the one place that I figured wouldn’t get ridiculously fat when I had a baby.
While an excellent THEORY, that was shot to shit as Amelia’s late pregnancy turned my lower body into that of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. I’d have laughed, had it not hurt so much to wear shoes in the dead of winter.
I’ve been eyeballing a new tattoo for awhile and by “eyeballing” I mean, languidly saying to myself, “I’m going to get a new tattoo someday” while I poured another diet Coke and forgot to parent my children.
What I thought was so awesome was that two of you rifled through my brain yesterday and guessed what I was going to get: a phoenix. Problem was, any time I googled “phoenix pictures” the results that I got were very distinctly un-Aunt Becky-ish.
Yesterday, I revisited the idea because OBVIOUSLY and imagine my surprise when THIS popped up:
(credit goes to Web Designer Wall, who has BAR NONE, the coolest fucking designs.)
It’s a phoenix. A colorful phoenix being reborn, not out of fire, it appears, but air. And that’s it. It’s what I want. I’ll tone down some of the intricate designs because that’s WAY too big for the space I need it, but that’s what I’m getting.
I figured out where to put it as well. The ball of my shoulder, spreading around to the front and back a bit. It’s a perfect compromise for me, because I can cover it up and let it show. I can’t wait. And by “can’t wait” I mean that I’m alternating between being crapping my pants and jumping around like a damn fool.
Which, I mean, what the hell else is new?
So, tattoos, o! Internet, my Internet! What do you think of them? Oh! And I discuss Christmas Balling over at Toy With Me today! It’s pretty awesome, mainly because I wrote it.
*like there is ANYTHING more important than the placement of pants. Heh.