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Anyway, a little anecdote from the other day.
Well, I've had tattoos for about four years now, and I've gotten a new one almost every year since I began college. My grandmother is a very conservative woman, ya know "your body is a temple" kind of stuff and nearly freaked out when she discovered my nose ring (so she'd definitely hate my tattoos, if she discovered them). Therefore, I masterfully hid my tattoos each time I visited my grandparent's house for Sunday Lunch. For four summers I went to my grandparent's house in a long sleeve shirt (please keep in mind that it's 80-100 degrees out, and my grandparents constantly have the heat on as well as a wood stove). I hid my two smaller tattoos with ease, and had to restrain myself from rolling up my sleeves when I got the Tree of Gondor on my forearm. I eventually decided that I had had enough and this summer I've been so boldly wearing tanks and short sleeved shirts. Hell, I've received my college diploma and I figure I can wear whatever I want without the fear of my grandmother having an aneurysm.
Sunday I was visiting my grandfather at a rehab facility due to the fact that he's recovering from a triple bypass, and I've been doing so for about a month now without any comments from him. I've caught him glancing at them from time to time, but he didn't say anything to me about them. However, as I was leaving this past time, I went to hug my grandmother (she wasn't in one of her Xanax induced slumps so she was fully aware of her surroundings this time around) and she grabbed me by the left arm as I was pulling away to leave. This particular arm has the Tree of Gondor, as well as a Harry Potter themed tattoo, which is probably what drew her to grab me. She pulled my left forearm up to her face, asked me if it was real or a stick-on, and proceeded to lick her thumb and rub my tattoo as if it were a pen marking. I told her that they were all real and I thought she was going to fall over right then. She licked her thumb again and continued to rub my skin as if she could wash them off with her spit. My parents, who had already left at this point, returned to see why I was taking so long to leave and could barely contain their laughter as they saw my grandmother attempting to clean my tattoos off with her spit. My mother told her that I've had them for years now, and I bought them all with my own money (which I did), and that was the nail in the coffin as my grandmother turned my arm towards my grandfather and told him to look at what I had done to my body; to which he replied, "Yeah I saw those the other day, but I wasn't going to say nothing."
I wonder how she'll react when I get this Star Wars themed thigh piece that I've been wanting.
Well, I've had tattoos for about four years now, and I've gotten a new one almost every year since I began college. My grandmother is a very conservative woman, ya know "your body is a temple" kind of stuff and nearly freaked out when she discovered my nose ring (so she'd definitely hate my tattoos, if she discovered them). Therefore, I masterfully hid my tattoos each time I visited my grandparent's house for Sunday Lunch. For four summers I went to my grandparent's house in a long sleeve shirt (please keep in mind that it's 80-100 degrees out, and my grandparents constantly have the heat on as well as a wood stove). I hid my two smaller tattoos with ease, and had to restrain myself from rolling up my sleeves when I got the Tree of Gondor on my forearm. I eventually decided that I had had enough and this summer I've been so boldly wearing tanks and short sleeved shirts. Hell, I've received my college diploma and I figure I can wear whatever I want without the fear of my grandmother having an aneurysm.
Sunday I was visiting my grandfather at a rehab facility due to the fact that he's recovering from a triple bypass, and I've been doing so for about a month now without any comments from him. I've caught him glancing at them from time to time, but he didn't say anything to me about them. However, as I was leaving this past time, I went to hug my grandmother (she wasn't in one of her Xanax induced slumps so she was fully aware of her surroundings this time around) and she grabbed me by the left arm as I was pulling away to leave. This particular arm has the Tree of Gondor, as well as a Harry Potter themed tattoo, which is probably what drew her to grab me. She pulled my left forearm up to her face, asked me if it was real or a stick-on, and proceeded to lick her thumb and rub my tattoo as if it were a pen marking. I told her that they were all real and I thought she was going to fall over right then. She licked her thumb again and continued to rub my skin as if she could wash them off with her spit. My parents, who had already left at this point, returned to see why I was taking so long to leave and could barely contain their laughter as they saw my grandmother attempting to clean my tattoos off with her spit. My mother told her that I've had them for years now, and I bought them all with my own money (which I did), and that was the nail in the coffin as my grandmother turned my arm towards my grandfather and told him to look at what I had done to my body; to which he replied, "Yeah I saw those the other day, but I wasn't going to say nothing."
I wonder how she'll react when I get this Star Wars themed thigh piece that I've been wanting.
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