I've finally decided what tattoo to get. It is going to be a birthday present to me (in May).
When I was 18 (17 years ago) I decided that I wanted a tattoo, but I'm not the type of person to rush into things. I decided that this tattoo would be with me for the rest of my life so it was a major decision what tattoo to get. I didn't want something that was just a spur of the moment decision, I wanted this tattoo to actually represent something.
I wanted this tattoo to be about me, that way when I'm sitting with my grandkids and they ask me why I got that tattoo I can explain why, what it meant to me.
I want to get a tattoo on my left shoulder blade of a black cat, it will have boxing gloves on and be standing in a fighting pose (frontal not a side view) and it will have one eye swollen shut.
Meaning behind this tattoo:
Since my name is Kat I've decided that my animal representation might as well be a cat, I don't know if I'm like a cat or not. Hubby says I'm more like a wolf (loyal to my pack but vicious and brutal when needed) but that wouldn't fit into the rest of the symbolism behind this tattoo so I'm sticking with the cat.
I've decided on a black cat because sometimes I feel like if I didn't have bad luck I wouldn't have any luck at all.
The reason for the boxing gloves and the swollen eye because most of my life I've had to fight for pretty much everything and I've been beaten, a lot in my life. I've been kicked around and been the whipping boy on more occasion but just because I've been beaten doesn't mean that I'm out of the fight.
I think that while I haven't been through some of the horrible shit that folks have been through, the shit that I've gone through wasn't all sunshine and gumdrops either.
And one of the first things I really want to do once I get it done is run and show it to my Mom.
When I was 18 and decided on getting a tattoo my mother nearly died. She threw a huge fit when I came home with a fake tattoo once. Of course I had told her it was a real one. She went on for days and days and days about how I was going to die from AIDS, how it was the biggest mistake of my life, how it was the worst thing anybody can do to themselves, it's disgusting, and on and on.
She even worked herself up to the point that she was on the verge of disowning me and throwing me out onto the street, again.
By this point in my life whenever I did anything that my parents didn't agree with I was given the boot.
I slept in many parks, I slept at the school, I crashed at friends homes and eventually I just started crashing at the Hubby's place almost every night. It was just easier to avoid all the hassle of having to face my parents and listen to them drone on about what a terrible person I am, how I'm a loser and will never be anything more than a loser.
Have you seen the Green Day video for Jesus of Suburbia - the long 12 minute one?
The part in the middle where the Mom and son are verbally sparring, you could put me into the role of the son and my Dad into the Mom role.
My Mom was more passive aggressive about her shit. She mostly got my Dad to deal with me.
8:53 a.m. - January 19, 2006
Recent entries:
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