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I've been thinking about it for almost a year and I've finally made the appointment... I'm going in for my second tattoo.

Pick yourself up off the floor, Mother. Breathe. Stop crying. I'm an adult. I'm not making this decision on a whim. I don't regret the first one I got. And I'm not getting it on my forehead so I will remain employable.

I had originally planned to go to one of the shops in downtown Baltimore based on some recommendations. But after some research, I've decided to go to Little Vinnie's in Finksburg which is just up the road from me. I talked to them today and the totally awesome artist, Eric Gregory, is going to do my ink on October 5 (no, Mom, that most certainly doesn't give you a month to talk me out of it!)

Eric does really beautiful colorwork and seems to specialize in imagery that I really like (animals, non-tacky floral stuff, Buddhist and Japanese imagery). The work I'm having done is on my back, between my shoulder blades, and is my own design - its a hand w/ an eye (sort of based on the hamsa hand/evil eye) with a pair of peacocks flowing from the palm. I can't wait to see his re-draft of my sketches.

With that said, I have to share the story of my first tattoo... I got it about 8 years ago at Cool Cat Tattoo in Fort Lauderdale while my friend Paige and I were visiting our friend Abbe. The guys there were awesome and they took all three of us as walk-ins. (yes, it was done totally on a whim... and I also got my navel pierced that day). The tattoo is right below my sternum (not a comfortable place to be tattooed but not as bad as you might imagine) and is a depiction of the Indian deity Kali (many armed goddess of destruction) dancing in a lotus flower. I honestly don't remember the name of the artist, but he did a phenomenal job of translating my half-assed sketch.

And so I came home with every intention of hiding the tattoo from my mother for the rest of my life. Fast forward a couple of years when I have complications following abdominal surgery. My poor mother is by my side in the emergency room, I'm writhing in pain and the attending physician whips the front of the hospital johnnie up exposing my stomach (I do have to digress and give kudos to my awesome surgeon who changed the routing of laparoscopic incisions in order to preserve the ink).

And then that terrible slow motion scene ensued... where my mother tried not to faint at the sight of the tattoo and my own horror at the fact that my mother was trying not to faint from the sight of my tattoo broke through my wall of pain... oh yes, it was an agonizing moment. Six years later she's almost recovered...

You'll get over this one too, Mom. :)