My first, and last, tattoo.

Matthew has been on me for years to get a tattoo.  I always knew what I wanted if I was ever brave enough to get one…a shamrock of course, since my birthday is on St Patrick’s day. I even had he specific design picked out for over a year.

He would bring it up from time to time and I would say NO! Basically, I am phobic of needles. The thought of having to get a shot makes me all sweaty and queasy.  I nearly passed out at my last blood draw. Needles and I are *not* friends. At all.

Fast forward to Friday after my birthday. We were out at dinner and Matthew noticed that our server had tattoos and enlisted her in the debate. I told Matthew that we could go to the tattoo parlor and *IF* they could do it then and *IF* we had the extra cash I would do it.
Well, here it is…..(located just above my right ankle)