Think Before You Ink

There are many people out there who have tattoos. I think that many of them were acquired during the late teens or early twenties. Back when you couldn't see yourself as an old person. Whenever I see a frat boy with a lightning bolt zagging around the circumference of his biceps I slowly shake my head, thinking of his arms frail and sagging as an old guy. Women may come and go, but he'll always have his tattoo....

So why I thought it would be a good idea to get one on my ass is - I suppose - a mystery forever. I wish that I could blame my ass tat on the poor judgment of a teenager. But, alas, I was thirty years old. I couldn't imagine that I would have three children (gah! it's still hard to believe!). And I certainly couldn't foresee that I would have three c-sections with three different anesthesiologists commenting that if only the tattoo were a few inches higher it could have been a bulls eye for my spinal tap.

The tattoo is actually higher up than I had intended which means that in the right pair of pants it peeks out like a sun rising on the horizon. The reason for its' misplacement is pretty dumb, too. When I went out that night I knew that there was a good possibility that I'd come home with this thing. So I thought it through and decided that I shouldn't wear a pair of granny panties to get a tattoo on my ass. After all, I'm a Classy Chick! Obviously. So I did what any other self-respecting woman would do - I wore my Asking For Trouble black lacy thong. Nothing says I'm Interested in Making a Bad Decision Tonight like a piece of lacy Lycra up the ass.

At any rate, the thong rises up in the back higher than some of my other panties and I hadn't really thought of that. I told the "artist" that whatever he put back there had to be below my underwear line. He complied with my request but neither of us were thinking about my Other Underwear. In fact, he was thinking about something else altogether. Seeing as how I was in the mood for some bad choices he tried talking me into piercing my tutu. He had a pierced tongue and seemed to think this is exactly what I needed to spice things up. I mean, seriously. Almost every time I put on a sweater my earrings catch on the material. And it hurts. So I should get one in my pants, too? I don't think so. Besides, one bad idea is really about all I need on a Saturday night.

So here I am, 8 years later and a tattoo on my ass. And I'm ready to have this fucker lasered off. I looked into it and it will cost me about $2,000. That's twenty times more than what it cost to get this stupid thing! I just can't rationalize using family money to get Mommy's Sun off of her ass. I'm thinking about starting up a collection. Maybe I could get some of those big clear jugs and leave them at the area gas stations with a sign on them:

Please help this woman! If she doesn't get her tattoo nuked off of her soon she's going to look RIDICULOUS at the Garden Club Meetings she's destined to one day attend! Any amount will help...God bless!

Or maybe I deserve to go through life forgetting that I have a tattoo back there, until I bend down to pick something up and hear someone behind me say, "ahem." And in case you don't know about these things, that ahem means, "Holy shit! I had no IDEA that you had a tattoo on your ass! That's hilarious!!!" Of course the truly bold will simply tell me, "Excuse me, Ma'am?? Your poor judgment is showing..."

By the way, Saturday Night Live did a hilarious skit about lower back tattoos. If you've never seen it, check it out!