My dad always said, "When you move out, you can get your whole face tattooed if you want." Unfortunately, I was still living at home. And although face tattoos aren't my thing, I was itching to get something done.
When I turned 18, I decided to get a tiny heart tattooed on my hip. I wanted something easy to hide from my parents and simple enough that I wouldn't regret later. One spontaneous night in Philadelphia, I went to a seedy tattoo parlor where I dropped 70 bucks on a crudely drawn, sort of crooked heart tattoo that was no bigger than a dime. But I was happy.
Looking back, I can't say the tattoo was the smartest idea. But hey, I could have picked something worse, right?
