I got my first tattoo two weeks after I turned eighteen and I regret it. I regret it almost enough to get it taken off of my body.
The day I went to the tattoo parlor, I just picked a random one on a busy street and figured it would be fine.
It is a hibiscus flower on my ankle, black and white, and really, at the time, I liked it. Initially I wanted it lower but I was so afraid of the guy tattooing me that I hesitated to say anything. But I did like it then. Maybe I liked more what it symbolized (being free from my parents' reign over my every action). But now it is just a flower, without color and without character.
I felt robbed months later when I got my first "real" body of work on my back (a day of the dead skull) in honor of my uncle. It's beautiful and truth be told, it's one hundred times better than any of my other tattoos. The only problem is now it made the two I received before that one seem, dead.
I am thinking of getting another tattoo for my birthday (next week)
I will keep you informed.
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1. On March 13th, 2008 @ 11:30 AM,