So that is the back of my head. Desperately attractive, right?
WELL IT ACTUALLY IS NOW BECAUSE I HAVE A TATTOO! And not just any tattoo ladies and gentleman, A! FREAKING! BOOK! TATTOO!
I never ever thought I would get a tattoo. I couldn’t imagine anything that would mean enough to me, that I could put in a place that would make me happy but not get me in trouble with my eventual career, or that I could deal with my fear of needles enough to go through with it. My fear of needles is deep, life long, and utterly irrational (although acknowledging that doesn’t change it). Once I made the decision to do it, something I thought a long, long time about, I barely told anyone. I mentioned to a few that I was toying with it, or that I wanted it, but the fact that I was actually going through with it didn’t really get out. It was my decision, and I wanted it to stay that way. Rachel knew for a while, but even my mother just found out a couple days before, Katie didn’t know til I was leaving for it, and my dad won’t know til he sees it. I was scared it was going to hurt, I was scared the needle thing was going to be too much for me. Neither of those things happened. The needle was nothing, and while it wasn’t comfortable and hurt very rarely, getting a tattoo is certainly a sensation. Everybody says they don’t know how to describe it. In this instance, I’m part of everybody. When you’re facing me, you can’t see it. When my hair is down, like when it’s healed, you won’t see it. Not unless I want. It’s personal, it’s mine, it’s beautiful.
I have a thing for books. Anyone who has ever seen my room knows this. Anyone who has ever watched me pull a book out of my purse (which I buy specifically and only if they’re big enough to fit books in them) knows this. Anyone who has ever talked to me for more than 15 minutes, possibly less than that, knows this. My room is a library. Without books, I would have no decorations (not that I consider them that, at all, but my living space would be mostly empty if you removed them). I have more books in my room than the typical person/family owns in an entire house. I like it that way. Animorphs got me started with reading, really and truly, and I’ve never looked back. I’ve never wanted to. From a chair or a bed I’ve traveled to far off lands, some that are technically on Earth, many, many more that aren’t. I’ve made friends, I’ve fallen in love, I’ve cried over, cried with, cried to on desperate occasions, characters that are not real in the sense of physically existing, but that doesn’t make them not real to me. I have characters that mean more to me than actual people in my life. You can leave me staggered with my hand pressed to my chest if you use a quote I love. Books got me through being sick. Books get me through day to day life. They’re an escape, a home, a love affair.
And now, for the rest of my life, I’ll never again be without one.
Incredible, ridiculous thanks to my friend and apprentice tattoo artist Kat for doing an ABSOLUTELY AMAZING JOB. I was her third tattoo, and her first time doing color, and I’m so thankful and I love her to pieces. She’s an artist, 100%, and anyone who will ever claim otherwise should come at me, bro. Also thanks to my darling Sam who held my hand the whole time, even though it hurt rarely, who also drove in the first real winter crap weather we’ve had this year. I just want to smother the two of you with adoration.
I got a tattoo. Holy shit. I’m terrifically happy. I love it. And now I’m going to bed.