I have been yammering on and on to my family and friends for years now – YEARS – about getting a tattoo. I want one. I really, really do. And I’m sure they’re really, really sick of hearing about how much I really, really want one. Cook or get out of the kitchen already, Myndi.
Here’s the deal, though. I’m a total chicken. Not so much when it comes to the inevitable pain (okay, well maybe I’m a little scared of the pain). Mostly, though, I’m scared of commitment. DeBeers wants you to think a diamond is forever. They’re screwing with you. Diamonds can be lost – Whoops! Down the toilet! Oh no! Dog ate it. Dang! Left it on the kitchen sink and it jumped down the garbage disposal. (Must have been a sad diamond.) But a tattoo? There’s no going back. Well, I mean there is, but it’s a long and painful process that I’ve heard basically feels like taking a cheese grater and blow-torch to your skin all at once.
So you get it, right? A tattoo is forever.
I’m not as big a commitment-phobe as I used to be. With a fourteen year-old marriage that’s still going strong, and four kids to-boot, I think I’ve come a long way from where I used to be. Younger Myndi was a mess. The idea of committing to anybody for the rest of forever freaked me the hell out. At one point the Hubster (before he was the Hubster) thought it would be funny to drop down on one knee and offer me a Ring-Pop as a joke. I never saw the Ring-Pop. I hyperventilated and passed out before he got that far.
Thankfully he took my idiosyncrasies in stride and asked me to marry him anyway.
I really would like to gather up the courage to get myself inked (is that a phrase? If I use that phrase when I go into a tattoo parlor will they laugh at me? And is ‘tattoo parlor’ the right terminology? Or does parlor only apply to those seedy-looking massage parlors that you just know offer happy endings for the right price? Ohmygosh. I’m getting all worked up and nervous, and I’m nowhere near a House of Ink (better than tattoo parlor right? Right?). My palms are all sweaty and I’m pretty sure I’m developing a case of sudden onset gastroenteritis).
*Breathe, Myndi. It’s not happening to you this second.*
According to this flow chart, me acquiring a tattoo wouldn’t end up being a total nightmare Oh-God-Why-Did-I-Do-That? debacle.
And according to this one, it really wouldn’t hurt that bad (at least not where I want to get one).
But are flow-charts found in the murky waters of Pinterest trustworthy? Do they have my best interest at heart? Or are they just cold graphics put together by folks who love to giggle at suburbanite housewives like me who daydream about sticking their toe over the line of their carefully manicured comfort-zone?
Geeze, Myndi, shut up already. You sound like an idiot.
What are your thoughts on tats? Success stories? Horror stories? Advice? I want to know what your thoughts are, even if you’re a grumpy bastard who thinks tattoos are an abomination to the Lord. *grin*