Scoff If You Must…

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Scoff if you must. Lord knows my mother will, but I’m going to do it. Don’t ask me why I’m doing it at this stage in my life. I have no good answer to that, except I just want to. Typically, this is something you’d expect from a young person. Not that I’m old, but I’m no longer in my wild and carefree twenties. I’m a responsible adult. I’m a wife and mother and all-around good girl. But, I’m doing this for me, and not anyone else. It’s my choice, my body, my skin, and it’s the headspace I’m in at this particular point in my life.

I’ll admit, I feel out of my element here. But it’s my first time, so that’s to be expected, right? So I don’t worry too much about it. I’ll also admit that the employees look a little scary. Maybe scary isn’t the right word. They look different than what I’m used to. They seem like nice people and are being very friendly to the clients and to each other. Again, I don’t worry so much about it.

I came here with a clear idea of what I want. So I’m surprised that I’m standing around looking at the books of all the different designs. Anything you can think of, there’s an example in one of these books. The sheer number is staggering. I’ve wasted enough time, so I pull up my hypothetical big girl panties and saunter over to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m here to get my very first tattoo.”

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