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I’ve been considering a tattoo since What’sHisName ran off with StayPuftGirl (special thanks to EternallyPregnantWoman for giving her a new name, since MissPiggy is trademarked and OfficeWhore no longer applies because this time it’s different). I wanted a physical reminder that I was surviving – something visual for the world to see, but also I think there was something alluring in the pain factor. Like, if I can grit my teeth and endure this, then how bad can anything else be? I know, I know. Clichéd. Important to note, I have a VERY high threshold for pain.

This is the design I found and fell in love with.

Ooooh.  Ahhhh.  Pretty.  Ouch.

The script, if you cannot make it out, says, “Only one who has lost all has the freedom and the ability to gain everything.” Beautiful. Plus, it’s right on the spine. What better place to prove I am a badass?

The only thing stopping me this far is the fact that while I want you to see it so that you know that I’m a badass, I don’t want to see it; not in pictures, not in mirrors, not looking over my shoulder and stretching my neck just right. This is why my only tattoo to date was placed on the bottom of my left ring toe (and maybe not too surprisingly, after my first divorce).

This morning, I got over that.

No, I didn’t get the tattoo. I didn’t even get my waist cinched like the picture, but I’m not ruling that out. I found the perfect compromise. I have no unsightly reminder that I’ll one day outgrow, and I got enough pain to cross that threshold three fold, plus I have to go back 5 more times.

I got my pits lasered.

And boy did I feel it. That reminder you do not see – or more importantly, that I do not see – that’s my badass.