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Tattoos, I have them.

I remember being a kid/teenager and writing all over myself – random words, drawings you name it I would put it on my body. I would also get the disapproving sigh from my mother when she would see my latest works of art and she would inevitably say “what on earth were you thinking?” Truth is 95% of the time I wasn’t thinking, I was a kid, and it sounded like it was a good idea at the time.

I am now 28, I have a good job – one in which I do deal with the public sometimes, and I have tattoos, 7 of them to be exact. All of which have a meaning, I also have piercings, 6 of them, my ears are stretched and I tend to not leave my hair one color for very long. None of these things has ever held me back in life. I am a respectable, responsible (most of the time) adult, who is hopelessly addicted to the words douche, fuck, and twat, and I have made the conscious decision that rather than pay thousands of dollars for art that can be stolen I will put it on my body, that way the person who steals it has to take me with them, and I guarantee you that they would return me in less than an hour.

At 20 I had decided I wanted a lotus on my lower back, I had an appointment made and the money saved and everything and 2 days before the appointment the artist called and cancelled because her husband had a heart attack and she would not be able to do the tattoo, but I could reschedule at a later date. I never did reschedule as I took it as a sign from above that it wasn’t meant to be and thank god I didn’t because I would now be the owner of a tacky tramp stamp, and not only that but it would have been done on a whim and without much investigation, or learning on my part. See I believe there is a power out there that stopped me. Read the rest of this entry