on my 18th birthday. I went to the DMV, traded my driver’s permit for a state-issued ID card, and headed to a tattoo parlor in a strip mall — one that did piercings on the side and was nestled between a Chinese restaurant and a Dunkin’ Donuts.
He tried to talk me out of it because I wasn’t religious — at all! — and I asked him to place it on the small of my back. You know the spot, about an inch above your buttcrack, where your low-rise jeans reside. The spot only others see when you are prancing around in your panties, a two-piece bikini, or…well, you know.
Before my daughter could sit or crawl, I had numerous family members ask when I would be piercing her ears, or they would express their shock I hadn’t done it yet. “But I thought you would be all about piercing her ears. I mean, with all your piercings and tattoos…” they’d say.
Had this conversation with someone at work the other day. They asked why I didn't take her yet. Said I would wait until my now 5 yr old asked and understood what she was asking for. Her choice.
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