Tat's what I'm talkin' about

As I walked by a late-teen-year-old girl at the movies last night that had the Elvish script from the Lord of the Rings tattooed around her neck, I thought to myself, "Wow, I don't think in over 300 posts I have discussed my thoughts on tattoos!" Well alright then, here it goes...

I lied, actually, that was the third thought that went through my head when I saw that girl. The first one was that her mother probably cried when she came home from the tattoo parlor. The second was, "Oh my god, she's going to regret that in a couple years. Think of her wedding photos... ugh!" I'm not saying that all tats look like shit in a wedding dress... because some look amazing, but a phrase written in a pretend language from a movie across your neck? Umm... no.

And I'm fairly certain it's not my advanced age talking either. I got my first tattoo at 16 (which I got with a forged photocopy of my passport. Ahem), but even then I knew that I wanted to get it in a place that could be hidden for important events, like interviews and *coughs* ...church. But it's true, and you know what? IT LOOKS LIKE MANGLED ROAD KILL NOW, so thank fuck no one except a select few can see it!

I wish my fairy godmother could have popped in for a visit to tell me, "Hell no! Don't do it - in the future you will have 14 pounds of twins which will fuck up your entire stomach."

But alas, she never came.

Look. That's cool if you're in a position where visible tattoos are not an issue, but at 16 or even 20, how many people can possibly know that? Unless you're already a millionaire rock star, not many. And that is the problem! Every teen wants to look like rock star and they aren't thinking about reality. AT ALL. You can get on the defensive all you want and say shit like, "If they won't hire me because of my tattoos, they fuck'em!" but that scrappy attitude ain't going to pay the bills or put food in your future children's mouths.

Ashley, a Reality TV blogger put it like this... young people seem to take the idea of getting a ginormous tattoo all over their body very lightly these days and that a lot of times, people don’t think about what those tattoos will look like when they get old. (Old as in 65, not 30!).

When I was 16, which was almost 20 years ago (holy fuck, yo!) tats were obviously still a "cool" thing to get but it was usually in the form of a little heart on your ass, or a butterfly on your ankle, etc, etc. They were TINY things. Even the design I got on my back when I was 19 (which was NOT called a tramp stamp back then ;) is only 4 inches in diameter but was considered a "big tattoo" at the time.

Now that I'm in my mid-thirties, I don't want to get my tats removed per se, but I do want them fixed, and I am still planning on getting at least one more that is quite a fair bit larger. But I have my career and I've had my kids, and I know what I want and why I want it - which are very sentimental reasons, none of which being: "Like, 'cause they're, like, super cute and I love their band? (insert gum smacks)".

I guess the bottom line is that I think the legal age for getting a tattoo without parental consent should be 25... (as it should be for marriage and joining the army too, in my opinion), so to prevent train wrecks like this:

Source: TheCount.com

Or this:

Source: HollywoodLife.com

Or maybe even this:

Source: Starcasm.net

Let's completely ignore the veiny heart or the cupcakes-as-letters that spell "Booko(?)", or the cursive text that does not adhere to the lined paper whatsofuckingever, and go up to "bullet proof" on her shoulder which I read as BUFFET PROOF.

Sweet.

I wish I was buffet proof too.

That Damned Cervixen

In conversations with mothers, both close friends and new acquaintances alike, I have used my favourite "tattoo vs motherhood" analogy in conversations many, many times, but it's occurred to me that I've never written it down. It goes a little something like this:

Motherhood is like getting a tattoo because while you're getting the tattoo, you're all like, "Jesus, fuck! This is a lot of pain. Who the hell said THIS would be a good idea? I wish they were here so I could punch them in the face right now!" Then, you look in the mirror after it's done and are so happy with the results that you've forgotten that last 3 hours of horrifically annoying pain. And that's only moments later! Give it a few years and the yearning comes back. When, oh when, can I get another tattoo? People with no tats would ask, "Doesn't it hurt?" Yes, but you have forgotten just how MUCH it hurts because you see your tattoos through rosy marijuana fogged glasses from those days when you were young, carefree and your skin was tight. Then the day comes when you yet again get to lie down on a table and receive another tattoo. Although excited, once that first needle breaks the surface of your skin, you are quickly reminded of the horror. But it's too late now - second one's on its way as you clench your teeth and curse the person that encouraged you to get this one. And the cycle continues...

There you have it.

And last week, my oldest friend (who's survived both grade school, high school AND living with me in Australia), had to be induced to get her little Number Two pushed outta her. Sorry, that sounds like having a big poop, but let's all be grown-ups here, shall we? Ahem.

She had an emergency C-section with her first 3 years ago and was worried she would have to have another one. I was on the fence with this concept since I've heard so many horror stories about dead vaginas and that although a C-section REALLY MOTHERFUCKING HURTS, it was only for about 2 weeks and at least my lady bits were still in tight working order not that anyone cared, but still. Since I had my two at the same time, I haven't really ever given it much thought until now, but I think I would prefer to re-fuck-up my stomach rather than ruin a second part of my body - especially one that I hold in such high esteem.

(Random side note: I wish I had never seen The Spa of Embarrassing Illnesses)

So, I would get texts every few hours about her pain-in-the-vagina cervix dilating too slow and that she was getting more and more Oxytocin pumped into her. All of this so that she can rip open a new hole, instead of re-open the old one she already has. I mean, in a perfect world, yes, yes... we'd all have easy natural child births where we would go take a squat in the backyard and after birthin' a baby, we'd stay out there to get some weeding done with the newborn effortlessly latching on to our teet.

And thus, it's not just the actual second (or third, or...) child that is like getting a tattoo, but it's the actual birth, or more specifically - even though I can make a fairly valid analogy with the first 3 years as well.

How's your cervix? 
Not cooperating. It's only at 4 cms.
Fucking cervix. She's a bitch... no, she's a vixen. A Cervixen, to be exact!
Stop, you'll make me poop.
You'll poop anyway - right on the table. Gross.
STOP IT.
You love me.

And that's how I came up with the name of my imaginary rock band - if I knew how to sing or play an instrument other than the rice filled Alpha-Getti can. Farrah, Jen, Amy, Rebecca and Jessie have also volunteered to join my imaginary reindeer games. We would be fucking awesome... in theory.

Will there be merchandising, you ask? You bet your sweet ass there is. 

Want one? Check out my Estrogoodies. OR you leave a comment because 

I'll be giving one away! ROCK ON!

Oh yeah, and my friend has a healthy baby boy. Blardy, blar, blar...

Another vagina bites the dust.

__

({O})