“Oh, it’s so cute! Why would you want to get rid of it?”
This coming from the consultant looking at the little pink gecko on the inside of my right forearm.
“If you only knew how NOT cute it is to me. So, how soon can it be erased?” I ask with little patience.
Looks like I will be Charlie-free by the summer.
“Who’s Charlie?” you ask.
Well, within days of being “branded,” I named the little lizard Charlie because I knew, instinctively, that getting a tattoo for someone you’re in a relationship with is stupid; the whole experience reminded me of Denise Richards who literally had to have her “Charlie” tattoo removed from her body after their marriage failed.
“Why did you do it in the first place?” you continue to ask.
Well, people do silly things when they aren’t thinking.
So, in honor of my 40th birthday, I am going through the first of 3-5 procedures this afternoon to erase the bugger for good. (The consultant said it is a pain-free process and only hurts AFTER. I told her it can’t equate to the pain of keeping it.)
I will be recording this momentous occasion on video. It will be a death and rebirth of the arm I sacrificed 3 years ago to someone who didn’t understand or appreciate the sacrifice. (Heck, at least I didn’t pay for the tattoo in the first place. I just have to pay to have it removed.)