Dolla Dolla Bills Y’all… Judge Me, I Deserve It.
Remember last year when I blogged about my first tattoo? The cute little dove on my wrist that I absolutely love having that reminds me how much I love myself and spirituality and BLA BLA BLA IM A GOOD PERSON?
Well, I went out and got another tattoo not too long afterward. And then, for good measure, I got a third. Because… well, I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe some mixture of peer-pressure, “seemed like a good idea at the time,” and emotional upheaval resulted in more tattoos than I ever thought I’d have. But alas… Here I type with an adorned little body.
What were these tattoos you ask?
Therein lies the problem I’m afraid. Let me preface it with this: I LOVE my tattoos. I do not regret them. I simply wish that one in particular was easy to explain and didn’t immediately warrant laughter.
See for yourself:
The explanation is a good one, but one that unfortunately revolves around a (very inspiring) book that only like 4% of the world has read…. Leaving the majority of people who see my tattoo, which is not all that many people normally, to form assumptions about me either loving money, being a gold-digger, or being “gangster.” I fall into none of those categories, and instead I am just a very well-read, absolutely shameless capitalist. With the tattoo to prove it.
HOWEVER– the book that so revolutionalized my political beliefs and life goals (Atlas Shrugged), is being made into a movie. Thank God, because that’s truly the only way for people to start understanding the tattoo on my back and will spare me my attempts to explain it without seeing someone’s eyes glaze over at the mention of “capitalism”. The average person I hang around with in Orange County can barely make it through a copy of the 9 page meny at Cheesecake Factory, let alone 1,300 pages about individualism and libertarian awesomeness.
I do love that tattoo, and I love that it does carry such a significant meaning. I don’t love the face that some people make when they catch a glimpse of it, but facial reactions from people around me has rarely affected me before, and it really doesn’t much now either.
GO SEE THIS MOVIE. THEN GO GET A TATTOO LIKE MINE. We’ll start a club, and call it “My Tattoo Makes Sense to NOBODY But Me And Random Old White Men.”