ink smear

Dear Amanda, (I've decided that this blog thing might work better for me if I started to fashion it in the form of a letter to you, like pen pals.)


Dear Amanda,


We have talked extensively about tattoos in the past. About stuff you wanted, about how I dislike them, but simultaneously love your first one, blah blah. More than one conversation has been had about tattoos.

I still, for the most part, dislike tattoos. Maybe that's the wrong way to phrase it. I enjoy other people's tattoos. But I have a hard time imagining myself with one.

Here's the kicker:

Lately, I kind of want one. A small one. That I could easily hide. A bird. A dove or a sparrow. I don't know. Still, I'm not sure if I can picture myself "tatted up," if you will. I've been thinking about it, though, and I kind of want one.

I don't know if I could go through with it. Needles make me kind of want to pass out (and I'm good at giving shots!). Pretty much every time I've ever gotten anything pierced (7 holes total) I've nearly fainted. I blame my irrational fear on my chronic bouts with strep throat as a child, which always culminated in me lying face-down on the examining table in my pediatrician's office, getting a penicillin injection in my hip. To paint a better picture, the needle is huge and penicillin is as thick as peanut butter. Awful experience.

I'm also scared that I would immediately regret it. Do other people ever feel that way? I don't know.

Anyway, I kind of want a bird tattoo. I've been looking at pictures online for a while. I guess we'll see what happens. This is the kind of thing that might take me years to decide on, you know.

What do you think?

I miss you.


XOXO,

Kitty