joining the 14%

Despite my dad's best efforts to stop it [see photo above], I got a tattoo last Saturday. Apparently 14% of the U.S. population is tattooed, according to Wikipedia... I would have guessed higher.

My mom and I went to Inksomnia, where the owner, Mike did my "ink." I was so afraid I'd pass out or pee my pants [an irrational fear, because I don't think an uncontrollable bladder is a real bodily reaction to pain]. Regardless, I waited until the absolute last second to go to the bathroom before sitting down in the chair. Because I was prepared for the worst, it actually didn't hurt as badly as I anticipated. Plus, my brave mother went first; watching her endure it made me feel a little better. When he was finished, the first thing Mike said was, "welcome to the club of tattooed freaks," which made me laugh with relief, and think I have to write that down so I'll remember it...
It turned out exactly the way I pictured, so I'm thrilled. It's a Sanskrit word which means consciousness — as in, "the state of being awake and aware of one's own existence, sensations, thoughts, surroundings, etc." I got it to serve as a constant reminder to myself to be aware and present in each moment.

Reactions have been varied but, for the most part, positive. My favorite was my grandmother: "Oh sweet Lord... well I don't know why I'm surprised. Nothing you do should surprise me after you wore flip-flops to prom."