Ink!

I have been fascinated with tattoos for as long as I can remember. Skin too. I like looking at the different textures and coloration of skin. But especially skin with ink. There is just something very beautiful to me about living art.

When I was very young, I only looked at tattoos from the very corner of my eyes, because I knew that it wasn't polite to stare at people. I also had this strong feeling that tattoos were only for rebellious and bad people, and didn't want anyone to know that I was admiring them.

Fast forward a few decades, when, as a young woman, I realized that getting ink was actually becoming, or had become, much more mainstream. Perhaps it might be okay if I start to look... and ask questions of the wearers, even. I found that people are very happy to talk about their tattoos and what they symbolize.

And finally, a few years ago, I entered the serious researching and planning stage, with full intention of getting one for myself. Knowing full well that getting ink will almost certainly mark me for the rest of my life, I decided that my non-risk-taking self would wake up and stop the process along the way if it was something that I truly didn't want to follow through on. But years have passed and I found myself really and truly ready and excited about the idea. Not a waning wish, but a growing one.

So, yesterday, I went for it.

The original plan for the day was to head to a giant antique show at the Expo Center with a friend. But by the time we were headed that direction, we both decided that we were much more in the mood for a relaxing meander than often is the case at such a large show. So we headed to downtown Troutdale for an ice cream cone, antique mall, and to check out a tattoo shop that had been recommended to me there.




Quite small and simple, I know, but my own design... a heart comprised of the first letters in my husband, son, and daughter's names.

I can't stop chuckling about the whole thing. ME with INK? Tee hee! *ahem*