My First Tattoo
When I turned 18, I wanted to do everything I could do when you turn 18. I bought a pack of cigarettes, which began the wonderful habit of smoking. I went to a strip club (don’t get excited, it was in Wooster Ohio, how good could it have been?). And I got a tattoo.
Before I was going to get the tattoo, I did ask my mom and dad what they thought about it. My mom was against it and my dad, well he sat in the chair and did not say anything. This was the point in our relationship where he refused to answer anything he did not agree with. Now the problem with this is that I got sick of him not responding to my questions, so I decided, if he is not going to answer, I will give the answer I wanted. So I took the silence as an emphatic yes, go ahead and get one. I knew he would not be happy.
So I got the tattoo with Jessica there and when I got home, he wanted to skin it off with a knife and he got real pissed off about it. My response was, hey, I asked you and you did not answer, so I gave myself the response I wanted. I think he took my questions more serious from that point on. Each time we went to my reconstructive doctor for my foot after that and I had to get another skin graft, he would ask them to take the tattoo off of my leg, which of course they did not do.
After my daughter was born I wanted to get another tattoo which started out as something small and ballooned into my entire lower left leg. I had Gia up on Skype and then showed everyone on camera my new tattoo. The look this time on his face was more of “what is he doing this time.” I know he was not too much of a fan of them, but he accepted that I liked them. I also joked with him that we should go and get a tattoo together but he probably would be a sissy and not get one because he could not take the pain.