I can only describe the process of going out and getting my first tattoo as awkward. I initially wanted it above my right hip bone, but the tattoo artist suggusted that I place it lower, so the tattoo wouldn’t stretch out if I ever would decide to have children in the future. His reasoning sounded logical to me, so I agreed. To be honest, however, having children was the last thing on my mind at that moment. I had to unbutton my jeans and expose my underwear, which was a little embarassing. After all, I was showing my underwear to some random guy that I had met just a few moments ago. He was like a dirty roach moving in on my personal space with every vibration of the needle, although I had no one else to blame but myself.
It’s funny, because although the process was exposing, the tattoo wouldn’t be visible to anyone else but me, and that’s the way I wanted it. The only thing that mattered was that it held some meaning for me.