Friday, September 19, 2008

It's Friday, I'm in Love

[title courtesy an LJ friend, now I have that song stuck in my head]

It's a gorgeous Friday. Perfectly sunny, perfectly warm, perfectly perfect to skip out of a slow day at work and enjoy the day doing other things like shopping at Target. Too bad that's not going to happen, though.

The hub is gone until Sunday. My mom and oldest sister are coming tonight after work to spend the weekend Just In Case. I'm hoping we can get some things cleaned and organized around the house while they're here. Isn't that the point of having family visit? To pawn off the things you don't want to do yourself?

My LJ friend was discussing personal styles and tattoos in her journal. Considering I was always the unique/rebel/weird/creative one in the family, I did get a tattoo (two, actually) while I was in college. My first one is a small butterfly, about 3/4" square, on the top of my right foot.
One of my dorm floormates and I decided to go get tattoos after our first college final exam, kind of a celebration of sorts. I chose a butterfly, in part because of a song by my favorite college band, The Nadas, and in part to symbolize that I was on my own, flying free (cheesy, I know, but that's the kind of stuff you come up with when you're 18).

The second one I got about two months later. It's a flower, about 1.5" x 3" on the lower left part of my back. It has absolutely no meaning; it was just something I got because another friend was getting a tattoo and I went for moral support.

At some point, I'd like to cover that tattoo with something more meaningful. It'll probably be a few years, though, once I'm for sure done having chitlins.

My dad was not overly happy about my tattoos (or the fact that I had my navel pierced a few months after that - my freshman year of college was all about trying to be shocking or different or break away from the "good girl" I'd seen myself as in high school). Even now he just rolls his eyes when he sees them. I know he loves me, he just doesn't get why I had to go and "color all over myself."

Even now, at 29, I'm still trying to determine what my personal style is. Still trying to figure out who I am. I know what I am: wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend. But that core of me is still working on itself. I suppose it's a continual evolution.

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