If you’d told me when I was fourteen just how much money I would invest and just how many tattoos I would have as a forty year old I probably would have laughed in your face. Today I have multiple sittings and several hundred dollars invested into work that identifies me and tells some of my story.
I’m just working on being all in on my tattoos. Having an artist working on my ink helps. He doesn’t let me half ass my ink. Yes, I pay dearly for his work, but what he puts in my skin ends up being beautiful. These two are two of my most important. I need to remember to write and I need to remember to live.
There are some that are memorials or honorariums, there are some that are just whimsical, but I refuse to get any ink that won’t continue having meaning down the road.
I still have family to be represented on my body (I’m not forgetting you, Middle and Tall) so I’m excited to still have years of tattoos ahead.
A tattoo wrapping around my wrist to say, “Unbroken.” Not something I always believe, but something I need to be reminded of.
Waiting For That Rocket 
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