Tattoos are a fad that fascinates me. They always have. I remember wanting one as a young girl when I first saw one on a man's forearm: a Navy anchor with a ribbon and an inscription. Later, my mother married a guy who had a skunk tattoo below the word "Cappy's" on his upper arm. It caught my eye, too, but when he explained that Cappy's was a bar he liked to hang out in, it lost its appeal and I saw it differently. I noticed how his tanned skin had a weathered look that made his tattoo look sort of tired.
By the time I was a young adult, I knew I would one day purchase a tattoo for myself. After giving it a lot of thought, I designed the one I wanted. I drove to a tattoo parlor near the Army base where I was stationed and shelled out a few hundred bucks to have it embedded in my skin. I'd post a picture of it, but due to its location and content I doubt HP would allow it.
Few people realize I have a 4-inch by 5-inch tattoo. It's only visible to outsiders if I'm wearing a bathing suit, because shorts cover it. It has never kept me from getting a job, but it raised an eyebrow among men I've dated