Yesterday I got another tattoo. I’ve been wanting to get another one for a long time, but the one I wanted was kind of intense (a tree on my ribcage, about the size of my hand) and inconvenient and expensive. So, I’ve continually put it off.
And then there is the wrist tattoo. I’ve wanted one since college. It’s like an accessory you always have, somehow it makes you look more… dressed, put together, I don’t know. But I thought I was definitely NOT cool enough for a wrist tattoo. Plus I have veins and little bones and ew.
When I was in grad school my on again off again on again off again (oh just kill me already, will you?!) boyfriend suggested we get “epic” tattooed across our wrists to express the state of our relationship. How very dramatic of him. And then that relationship fell apart for the last time – bullet dodged. But the awesomeness of a wrist tattoo stayed planted in my brain.
Every time I get one of those bar entrance stamps… or the kind you get at the zoo or the fair, or pretty much anywhere you can leave and come back all day as many times as you want to – I always want to leave mine on, never wash it off and feel like a badass! But then, you know, I take a shower and continue on with my old lady life. Sigh.
But then on Friday I just got a bur in my bonnet and had to have it. A little ram with oversized horns. I wanted it. It’s me. The little aeries, always busting in to places, fiercely protective, passionate, creative. I feel everything and push it right back in your face. The little dog with the big bark. The little ram, my buddy.
Standing guard, my little accessory. So mighty and armored, ready to defend.