I solemnly swear im upto no good

I’m pretty sure who ever said “think before you jump” had a pretty wise point to prove. Especially when it acts as a forewarning mechanism for an individual such as myself. Particularly before getting a permanent tattoo. As a simple individual only wanting the few basic needs such as food, water, shelter and the internet I found myself at shocking discovery when I craved a tattoo. Looking back, I’ve always wanted one. Ever since I was a kid. All the thrillers and the sci-fi had at least had one dudette who was inked. And I recently remembered that I had a first and fore most quest of getting one done. With my own green ones. Oh yes. It specifically had to be my own cash. Not lent, pawned or stolen. Not even as a gift from an ex-boyfriend.  Heck, not even free. For that in tattoo Terms and Conditions, would not be considered “valuable” if it did not cost or hurt.

There I was, motivated after a discussion with my boss, who also had a tattoo on her right shoulder blade,  to go out there and actually get it done.  Well not subsequently. I had to do a load of research and go through hours of eye popping images and sayings of tattoos.  Apart from the cost and the pain, I was exposed to various views on the matter. I once did the casual slip-up at the office lunch table and informed my colleagues that I really wanted to get a tattoo. Nothing big and nasty. Something small and lady like.  Like a butterfly or a flower (or god forbid, an exclamation mark. For the sake of getting one at least) and all of them stared at me with their hands half way to the plate after delivering the mouthful to its destination.  And incidentally gave negative views on the idea. “Eeya don’t men. Only bad people do that” and I was all “how so?” from the concepts I received, some were of the opinion that they marked bad or misbehaved characters and I was all “oh yeah. How come that random groper didn’t have a tattoo that said what he did. Bad people are not marked by what they consider fashion or style or a statement of individualism but from where they stand in the “right and wrong” scale of “harming an individual” right? Some believed that the process was bad for one’s health. True enough. Improper tools and procedure could lead to avoidable health issues but who ever said I wanted to get one from a less than qualified place?

All in all, I calculated the ups and downs. Downs seemed to be leading the race at a ratio of 10:1 . Apart from my health being breached, my utmost concern was my dearest father.  At his age it is not considered wise to be surprised by his 19 year old daughter getting a tattoo. Possible outcomes may vary. In mine, either a coronary or a serious road accident depending on when and where I break him the news. For example, Say he was driving, and I was all “hey dad, look what I got?” and produced my tattooed arm under his nose (so that he could get a better view of it), he’d flip. And so would the car. Knowing my previous run-ins with luck with fate, I’d probably end up having stitches in the tattooed area and thus covering it up. The previously introduced wise man would say “what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him” note to self; listen to this wise man more often. 

This wise man or woman (depending on gender and preference) is usually one’s brain or conscious which goes “don’t do that stupid!”  But which you don’t listen to anyway and hitherto find yourself in awkward situations wondering “why didn’t I think this through?”  This is approximately where I found myself 15 minutes after entering the salon. Printed on my right foot were two cat paw prints. Id like to “blame it on the booze” but no such luck. Although I was undoubtedly knocked over by a brick, abducted by aliens and brainwashed into getting one of these.  I’m still not confident which one of those scenarios took place but voila; two paw prints (signifying my absolute and undying love for all animals not including my hobo of a brother) I hardly had time to recover from the lapse of brain signals. I was en route wobbling my way to teach French to two of my students and therefore had to rush. Well, at least wobble faster.  

Arriving home I presented my foot to my dearest and sweetest grand mom, now 93 who was all “anney lamayo” (translating to something equivalent of “oh my child”) and kept her hand on her cheek in a sympathetic gesture and started laughing. Something about crazy adolescence hormones and how she didn’t do that type of thing when she was my age. So I had to remind her of what she had done. That’s right. She was getting married at that age. we all had a good hearty laugh. Sigh. Time never seizes to amaze me. And so does being free spirited, independent and a little bit around the twist. It’s like when Aristotle said “No great genius has ever existed without a touch of madness”  Im betting he had some fascinating stories up his sleeve to tell his grand kids as well.


Post Script; When Switchfoot said “This is your life. Today is all you got.Are you who you want to be?” i
took it personally and hence i came, i saw, i concurred.

No regrets. Mischief managed. ;)