You can stare if you want to.

So~

The weirdest thing has happened.

I have become one of “those” people. You know, one of the tattooed, pierced people. I’m not worthy of a stare, and don’t plan to be. I am a stare-er not a stare-ee. But can I anymore? I mean, without being somewhat prejudice against myself?

When I realized it was last week before I went home for my 35th birthday. I had a nightmare that my son begged and begged to get his ears pierced. So off we went to have his earlobes STRETCHED to the size of a SILVER DOLLAR. In my dream, I panicked and was massaging his precious earlobes with anything I could find to try to get them to shrink before going home. Hair conditioner, olive oil, ice, you name it, in the nightmare, I tried it. I lost several nights sleep over it.

And why you may ask? Because I (ME) had my earlobes stretched about 8 weeks ago and hadn’t told my family. (coward) So I make a phone call to my dad. “Dad? I have to tell you something so that I can get some sleep.” Of course, he scolded me. But not for the earlobes (only 4 gauge by the way which equals a 3mm hole), but because I worried about it. “You’re forgetting that I’m your old dad that has a buzzard sitting on a bone (tattoo).” Plus, he’s kinda used to it as it’s not my first or even my 5th piercing and I just had my 10th tattoo.

What is my point?

Can you be one that stares at a tattooed pierced freak and be one at the same time? Can you?

And the truth of the matter is, I don’t know when I’m done with my.. um.. alterations.

Huh.

Alls I can say is THANK GOODNESS you have to be 18 to get ink because my son would be covered with Sponge Bob tattoo’s.