Tattoos… They’re great, in my opinion, especially mine…. they’re the best!
When asked about them I turn into THAT mum at work constantly showing off her kids latest finger painting… which I’m sorry but it looks like someone sneezed paint on a piece of paper, ate it spat it back out and left it outside on a hot day…. This must be how people that don’t like Tattoos feel when they see me in anything short sleeved.
I’ve never understood the urge people have to stop me and ridicule my choices of the permanent little masterpieces, especially when I don’t ridicule anyone’s finger paintings, but they do, all the bloody time.
It’s always those typical comments… You know the ones;
“what will you look like when you’re older” my mother/my father/ pretty damn cool.
“Who will employ you” no one because I’ll be employing them, *insert hair flip here*
“That’s permanent you know” Look love I’m covered in almost £800’s worth of ink and stabby stabby holes so it best be bloody permanent.
I even designed most of mine, (minus a few from the inking angel that is Rebecca Winters from Cosmic monster), I’m so proud of them and they mean an awful lot to me. No I don’t have massive stories behind them, so don’t ask me what they mean or any of that jazz, because they mean I drew some fun squiggles and committed to them on a permanent level… The end.
I do get some lovely comments about them, they certainly outweigh the bad, although when a girl got a hold of my top to see my back piece and nearly strangled me I did consider wrapping myself in bubble wrap… But we hugged so its fine, I think…
Tattoos are not for everyone, I don’t think any less of those who don’t have them, and I would hope I wouldn’t be thought less of for mine, they’re not going to jump out and bite you, I on the other hand make no promises.