Down .2 lbs. This weekend, I did something I had been thinking about for the last three months or so. I got a tattoo. This is my second one. I got the first when I turned 30, as I felt this was a right of passage. It was a point of much change in my life, and was the first point at which I really felt like an adult.
In December, I turned 38. Doesn't seem like a milestone, and to most it probably wouldn't be. However, 38 is the age at which my mother died. She had lung cancer. So for me to turn 38, made me somewhat introspective. It doesn't help that I am facing some serious health issues right now - Rheumatoid Arthritis, ongoing asthma, obesity. So for me, this was... daunting. But I am not ready to give up.
So, this weekend I got a tattoo that will hopefully remind me not only that I need to live each day - and not just hide away - but that I need to live each day in such a way that I live to get more days. I just need to live.
I thought a lot about where to place this one - my other tat is at the small of my back, as that was the one piece of skin I was pretty sure wasn't gonna migrate over time, and IT WASN'T A THING YET! - but I wanted this one to be someplace I could easily see it. I considered a collar bone, but I wanted to be able to read it in a mirror and live backward is evil... so um, yeah, no. I really liked the idea of the wrist, as it is easy for me to see or touch and is fairly discrete, but I was leary of what message having "live" tattooed across a place famous for suicide attempts would give. I was talking about it with a friend, and they finally said "do you really care what other people think?" and I realized... I didn't. So, there it is, and I LOVE it. They were actually able to make it in my own handwriting.
Quote: Live long, and prosper. - Vulcan greeting - Star Trek