It's 1998, and we are after the first tattoos. First of all, let me explain. I "mean" his sister and himself. Living in Oklahoma at the time, we were surprised to find that the art of tattooing was illegal. Now there was a surprise. Bible Belt has not approved Body Art.
Here we are, two forty Look, liberated women, and we were ready to make a statement about our personality. The fact that tattoos were illegal, made us a little more attractive. Thus began the road trip. Across the state line in Arkansas, we stopped at the first cabin promotional tattoos. That's what is called a tattoo parlor. I made me think that we are waiting for courtship, and I probably did. We were greeted by two young men who wore down shirt that appeared on Sunday. They were charming (someone outside the Disneyland even longer uses this word?) And introduced us to various embodiments of the tattoo. I settled on a red heart for the miserable wrist, and my sister chose the ankle more popular Rambling Rose. When all was done, two proud and timid tattooed rebels crossed the state line and returned to Oklahoma.
Over time, the skills of our young men of evil began to manifest in their works. My tender heart will heal quickly and for many years kept its color. However, my sister Rose Rambing brain and became infected, and finally, in the course of ink poured from each other, leaving a muddy patch on the ankle.
Carried forward in 2008 and again got our tattoos paramount. Well, in our fifties, we were both ready to shake it again, and our spirit rebels began to rise, as we passed through the updated stores ink in San Diego. where I moved from Oklahoma Hills. But this time there were a lot of options. We were close to several fine establishments hoping to make the best choice. None of this came in the first place that we got. At this time, we would have used their years of wisdom and maturity, in order to attract the best artist in the city. We finally took a well-considered decision to take advantage of the latest shop, we encountered before rush into a healthy reality that most grandmothers opens every day.
At this time we again met at the door, two young men; Deja vu. But the times, they are changing! Black tee with images of groups that have blown our smooth jazz favorites in the wind piercing, plugs and Iroquois. And … tattoos from head to toe, literally. Now my years of living on the beach in San Diego, allowed me to acclimate to this mastery of vision; but to secure the girl from Kansas, that would be my sister, nervous thrill crossed her face, and I knew we were in the right shop!
After an hour of consultations, we finally decided to abandon the new tattoo and my sister took the revival rose. Cover art created by these talented Michelangelo, it defies logic. With a sad gap emerged beautiful, delicate, full of rose bud, which, if not in an area attached to the leg, could stop and smell the roses! well done job.
Now it may seem that this would be the end of my fights on the rose, but my insurgent fire did not subside, so they once again see my face in the "last tattoo shop on the way out of town." I believe that in my left ear, there is a special place that requires the attention of Michelangelo's tattoo parlor. And so the adventure continues.