Once upon a time, not that long ago, a middle-aged woman and mother of three (me) could not fathom why someone would want to put a permanent piece of art on their skin. It's forever, as forever as a marriage, and we all know how many of those turn out for the worse. So how could someone ever choose some ink to carry around on their person at all times, and for the rest of their life? I found it baffling.
I did admire many of the tats my friends had. One woman had spent several years getting a tattoo of a fish on her entire back. It was gorgeous. Yet, I still couldn't understand undergoing all that pain and expense for something she might not even like a few years hence.
Then my youngest got the bug. She had a friend who designed tattoos, and the friend placed a crude tat of a mountain landscape on my daughter's ankle. When I first saw it, my daughter told me it was temporary. It wasn't long before I figured out that that was a bald-faced lie, and while I wasn't thrilled my 14 year-old daughter had lied to me, I honestly could not get terribly upset about the tattoo.
For her 16th birthday, she wanted to get the real deal. Teenagers in New York could not get tattoos at the time (maybe still, I do not know), so we had to cross state lines into New Jersey to get one done. She had researched which artist she wanted to use. I made the appointment.
I made the appointment for two. I would be getting my first tattoo along with her second.
My daughter had chosen a tasteful and lovely spray of wild roses for her 16th birthday present. She went first. She had it placed next to her navel, on a nice fleshy part of her belly, and seemed to experience little discomfort during the procedure. I sat alongside with a tiny bit of trepidation, but she had made it look easy, and her result was really good. She and I were both very happy.
Then it was my turn.
I'd decided to choose a much smaller design, and one related to hers. A nice mother/daughter tattoo event.
I lay down on that table and had the fellow work just above and to the left of my left breast. On top of a bony area.
It hurt! A lot!
Here's a shot of my tattoo. I do not like where it is because it is easily visible in almost all of my clothing, and no one ever knows what it is. Take a guess. I'll give you one hint: it is not a radish!
Some of us have luck with tattoos, and others of us make grave mistakes. I am one of the latter.
I will never get another tattoo.
You do you though. I'm cool with that.
This is my entry to 
ERG!!! I spend a ton of time making sure everything is correct before I hit publish, but I missed that the first image would be a page break. I'm not even going to try to change it, because I already know it won't work. My bad!!!