Anyone who knows me, knows I love tattoos.
The last tat I got was a tiger’s head on my left pectoral, which I got well over a year ago.
Grrrrrr!
In total, I’ve got 17, including my wife’s name, kids’ names, several tribals, a few dragons and a complete back piece.
I’ve been meaning to get my last child’s name inked on my left bicep, but simply haven’t gotten around to it.
And I’ve been jonesing.
To make matters worse, I’ve been in the vicinity of my tattoo artist several times, but simply haven’t been able to drop in and put in the work.
Worse still, are all the tattoo shows that have been on recently – mocking me.
The proverbial straw was the Afropunk piece I saw today, featuring a full spread of tats.
Flash, I’m putting an all-points bulletin out for you.
I need another tat!
But it huuuuuuuuuuuurts! I’d get one–a pretty little hummingbird somewhere discreet if I didn’t think I’d die from the pain of the needle. (Don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt so bad or that it goes numb or whatever. I suck when it comes to pain. I get antsy when you press too hard with the sticky tats the kids get at birthday parties. Seriously.)
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Thanks for sharing. I’m afraid of wrinkly old skin with ink on it in a year or so (me, not you).
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Perfectly understandable. That’s a oft-repeated concern that folks without tattoos offer for not getting one. But if you get them early, you get many years of smooth skinned enjoyment, and by the time your skin starts to wrinkle, you won’t even be thinking about them.
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