Tat too?

God, I am freaking starving right now. I've been trying to be healthier by packing a banana and a small package of carrots for lunch, but really it's not cutting it. I find myself downing a huge cup of coffee just to stifle the pangs of hunger. It was especially interesting today when a couple of coworkers and I went for a walk outside in the brisk 87 degrees (actually it really didn't feel too hot, but for the sake of this rant let's just say it was), and I found myself wanting to keel over and vomit a little bit...nice huh? Yeah yeah I know, I should stop being an idiot and actually pack a freaking lunch, but I'm so lazy in the morning (and usually rushing around anyway cuz I'm never organized) I don't have the time to make anything. I mean come on, what am I, a freaking magician? Who has time to swipe a slab of peanut butter on two pieces of bread! And if that weren't enough, I'd also require a baggy of pretzels to accompany my sandwich and fruit...and of course, a cookie or two. So really when you factor all that in, I'm better off grabbing the damn banana and suffering the pain of my stomach trying to digest itself.

But anyway.

I don't think I talked enough about my trip home yet, which was both pretty relaxing and uneventful, yet at the same time had moments of revelation. Probably the biggest is the fact that my cousin, Beck, is engaged. Yeah, I'd say that would fall under the category of "Big News", so again, congrats to Beck and Anth!

But another surprising event happened, seamlessly enough, while in the car with my family. Now I should preface this by saying, I really hate, HATE, being one of those people who says they're going to do something but then rarely actually does it. Yes, along with my self-proclaimed laziness, cheapness, and pathetic addiction to television-watching, my procrastination (or probably more aptly, my never-actually-doing-it-tion) is one of my crappiest attributes. Let's be honest, we all do it sometimes but we all have at least one friend who does it ALL the time...and if you don't know of the person, it's probably you.

Anyway, ever since last year's birthday I've been seriously considering getting a tattoo. I regret not getting one at the same time my girlfriends all went together to get theirs, but I couldn't think of anything that permanent or life-altering at the time. Now that I think I have a reason for one, I think I'm ready to make (maybe) the biggest mistake of my life (of course, it could be a tie to the time back in 8th grade when I insisted on chopping off my hair only to end up looking like a mix between Pat Benatar and a brunette Herbie the Elf from the Rudolph the Reindeer clay-mation special).

So after some hemming and hawing, and some suggestions from tattoo-aficionados, I think I settled on the ideal representation for me...a single feather quill. Not only to represent my attempt at written adventures, but also because it symbolizes my lack of direction and how I seem to move along however the wind pushes me. Once I figured that out, the next big issue was where to put it. I kept thinking someplace easily hidden, like low on my hip or back, but for some reason I always felt I should put it on my shoulder. I even considered the back of my neck, but then I worried that by the time I was 80 I'd have to explain why granny's got a wilted string-bean looking thing on her. I was pretty undecided, so I really felt like I had no choice but wait until I figured it out.

Back in the car, jumbling around the back seat with my sister and mom, while my brother, Drew, and my dad were up front, we got on the subject of tattoos somehow. Now, had I gone through with it I fully intended to keep it from my parents as long as possible...at least until the holidays rolled around, being the season of forgiveness. When I couldn't contain it any longer, I said casually, "I was thinking about getting a tattoo." I waited for the bomb to explode.

"What were you thinking about getting?" my mother said.

Ok, that was a surprising response. When I told them a feather quill, my sister retorted with a less than encouraging reply. A few brief seconds passed before my mother responded.

"Oh I could see that. That would be pretty."

What? She basically said she wouldn't hate me for doing it, and she actually thought it sounded pretty? Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't the original thought behind tattoos to show you are rebelling from the norm? How am I supposed to be considered a rebel now, when my mother thinks my tattoo would be "darling"?

Actually, it made me more relieved. I always sought my parents approval with everything I did (and still do). So now that they seem to be ok with, it's almost like I have to do it now.

But who knows...maybe I'll wait till next year....