I finally finally did it. Yesterday, my little sister & I went up to the Red Lotus parlor in Lansdale, Pennsylvania, & became tramp-stamp-sistas-4-LYF. Well actually, my sister got her tatt between her shoulderblades, but it'sh official: I'm a tramp, & I now have the stamp on my lower back to show for it.
"Nolite te bastardes carborundorum." Or, "Don't let the bastards grind you down." It's from The Handmaid's Tale, & I'm happy to give the full story sometime, though not feeling like ruining the pleasure of storytelling on here.
Actually, it wasn't nearly as painful as expected. More an annoying sensation which infrequently blossomed into brief & pointed torture. It hurt most around the spine & by the time she hit the right side, I was more or less accustomed to the feeling & got through the rest easily. Oddly enough, I might have caught the tattoo bug--as in, I think I'd like another at some point. Maybe a design around this one or another altogether.
My mom said to my sister that men wouldn't want her if she got more than one tattoo. Hopefully I'll have the pleasure of hearing the same advice before I head back to Boston--ha.
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