Last week, I went to get a new tattoo (wound up getting two) to commemorate the New Guy joining us in our journey to take over the world.
His name is loosely translated into “gravelly homestead,” so naturally a fort came to mind. The secondary tattoo has more to do with what we often call him – Grahambo. The homestead is on my left shin and Grahambo representation is on my left arm.
Don’t judge, others tend to. Just because I’m a SAHD and have tattoos doesn’t mean a cotton-pickin’ thing. Your skin will wind up just as wrinkly and saggy as mine, but the difference is mine will have different shades and hues of color.
Last year, I finally got my tattoo for The Unit, a few years after the fact, but that’s irrelevant. One of the meanings of his name is “little chariot fighter,” or “little champion,” thus a tiny human in a chariot steering two horses. It’s located on the inner part of my left arm.
I have numerous tattoos but I don’t get them to show them off or talk about them (as I am here), but because it’s my way of signifying — albeit sometimes random — things that have happened in my life, things I feel or have felt, or things that I thought of on a whim. In fact, I try to keep them covered as much as I can.
Some people are really insensitive, misunderstood, or just plain ignorant when it comes to discussing tattoos with someone with tattoos. Some questions/comments I’ve been approached with include:
- Q: “Did it hurt?” No, a needle injecting ink in your skin feels great.
- Q: “I’m gonna get a sleeve…” No you’re not.
- Q: “Do you have any more?” Yeah, probably.
- Q: “How many do you have?” (usually from the guy who kept every single Solo cup at the keg party in HS)
- Q: “You do know tattoos are permanent, right?” Yes Linds, I do.
I share on my blog because it has to do with parenting (right?) and being proud to raise two cool dudes. And because I know my blog only gets a few hits every day. Let’s step it up people!
Wifester, she just shakes her head, laughs, and pours another glass of wine. Her last comment regarding a tattoo (Grahambo), was, “You do know tattoos are permanent, right?” To which I responded, “So are kids, right?”
I digress, I’ll take it back to the kids. The Unit looks at his representation and knows its him and points to the horses and says, “Daddy, I steer dem!” One day/night, the New Guy and I will watch Rambo, look at my arm, and share a laugh. I hope he doesn’t turn out like John Rambo, in fact, I’d much rather him really enjoying a good marshmallow roast over an open fire.
OK, that’s good for tonight. Watching Wipeout on the Roku as Linds watches Real Housewives of New York (I think) on the computer. With both kids asleep — for now — we cheers’ed to drinking together at night yet again. As my man Eminem so eloquently stated in his song, “Square Dance,” — it feels so good to be back!