Approximately 60 hours and counting. I am kind of ascared, but no way am I telling anyone cuz I am supposed to be so freakin tough. I enjoy very much being both tough and extremely girly. It is a skill you know? You look all sort of petite and like you can't run fast cuz you got on 4 inch wedges and your hair costs more than most people's house payment, but at the same time you know you can also kick a man's ass fair and square without ever stooping to coming near the bawlsaq.
So I decide that a tatt will be sort of tough and will represent me well. I am all about gettin the tatt, right? Then I start to waiver, start to doubt my decision. I decide I need to talk about it, hear myself think out loud--see if I am REALLY ready. Then I hear the words,
"You know, I am not at all interested in that, OK? I do not want to hear you talk about that. It is your body. You do what you want. I mean, if you want spinning hubcaps for your van, then so be it, it is your van go ahead, but I do not want to hear about it." (Imagine right here that sudden sound of music playing and then the record player needle zipping off to one side, a brief scratching noise then silence).
"What?" I say.
The response, "You know how I feel about that" (head turns away for dramatic effect).
Being not completely freaking stupid, I completely am cognizant of what the person really thinks about my potential tattoo but cannot stop myself from forming the words, "No, actually, I don't." Those words plod out of my mouth in slo-mo like it must seem for those unfortunate druggies who smoke mandrax out of bongs or something.
"Well," the person replies "it is trashy, don't ya think?"
Well butter my ass and call me a biscuit. Wow, that NEVER occurred to me (sarcasm) let me rethink my choice and THANX soooooooooooooo much for that incredible insight. Even thinking this I replied, "Hmmm...O.K."
Listen anything can be trashy. I hate to sound all Forest Gump (kick ass sound track BTW) but trashy is as trashy does. I could install a pole in my living room, stick cucumbers slices across the unspeakable parts of my upper womanliness, throw on a thong and 8 inch patent leather stilettos and spin endlessly while the neighbors tossed dollars at me, and still, I would not be trashy, mmmmmkkkkaaayyyy????? Let me tell you what "trashy" is. Trashy is throwing a person you are supposed to love under the bus. Trashy is abandoning a person in body and spirit when they need you most. Trashy is begrudging a person an enviable life that they have damned well earned because you have issues that you cannot keep contained.
I could go on, but I choose not to. I could forgo the tatt, but I choose not to. My tatt has a lot of symbolic meaning to me which I guess is why this is such a bailiwick. My idea was to get a lizard because they can shed their skin, rejuvenate a lost tail, change colors to adapt to their environment, are widely misunderstood and under appreciated, require a warm climate, but can survive the coldest winter only to reemerge victorious at the thaw. Although silent, they are expressive and in great numbers, can eradicate most garden pests. I think of the lizard as a symbol of metamorphosis, of my metamorphosis.
So if there was any glimmer of doubt that I was going to show up at Elektra Art in Ingleside this Saturday morning with 12 of my dearest friends to celebrate my inner and outer changes I can tell you that hesitancy peeled away when I heard "trashy."