Last night I was working on the computer when Isla came running out at me giggling, lifted up the back of my shirt and put something wet on me. “Ewwww,” I giggled.
“Mama, I’m just joking you,” She yelled and laughed, “Get it?” She held out the wet paper towel that she had placed on my back. “See? Because you don’t like tattoos.”
She was pretty sure she had just played the best prank ever on me. Let me clarify, it’s not that I don’t like tattoos, I just don’t like them on me. Danny has about 4 billion and I figure that’s enough for the both of us.
I went to Georgia back in 2011 with a friend and while I was there I got my nose pierced. I had it for probably 3 weeks before it started to get a little infected. I called Danny on the phone in a panic because there was a little bump near the piercing and what if it stayed forever? Danny told me, “Laura, DO NOT take it out. That’ll make it worse. Just let it heal and then you can take it out later.” I hung up the phone and ripped it out of my nose. The next time I saw him, he just looked at me and rolled his eyes.
That night, I told everyone in my family, “Never let me get a tattoo. It’s too permanent for me, apparently you can’t just rip them off your arm when you change your mind.” What if they misspelled something, or what if the line was crooked? For a girl that is a commitment phobe, I just think tattoos are a bad idea.
So, last night when Isla wanted to put a tattoo on me I thought, Hey, no prob, I can take it off in the morning. She pulled off a strip of about 5 minions from her new temporary tattoo roll and stuck it to my arm. She put on the wet paper towel and we waited for it to do its magic. She gave herself matching ones so we could be twins.
This morning, I woke up and got ready for work. When you work as early as I do, and you’re a mom, and you have a house to clean and laundry to do, makeup and curling hair takes a back seat, or really it’s more like in the trunk of my car, or maybe the trailer that is being pulled by a trailer that is being pulled by my truck. Point is, it’s waaaaayyyyy back there. But I thought I would at least make an effort to remove the minion tattoos. I wiped them with a towel. Nothing. I got the nail polish remover and scrubbed them, nothing. I scratched, nothing. I think I got one minion eyeball off. Then I ran out of time and had to leave. I pulled on my hoodie left the house. As the morning got busier I forgot about it. Until I took off my sweatshirt and the man in line told me he liked my new ink. I looked down at my arm, at the 4 minions that my daughter had put there, smiled at him and said, “It’s a mom thing.”
I’m trying coconut oil tonight.