If Life Hands You Lemons...Say #$%& it and Get Another Tattoo

I was seventeen years old when I got my first tattoo. It's a funny story...some friends...a basement tattoo shop... a grey haired, ex-pat with a thick accent and shaky hands. I chose some flash from his filthy wall...a parrot. Hey, it looked very much like what I thought a tattoo should look like. He inked a reasonable facsimile of the flash onto my left calf...I left.

All these years later I'm still surprised that I didn't contract Hep C.

I had every intention of getting the work covered up, but then my wife said, "Don't," and so I didn't. Instead, I had some fun with it. When life hands you lemons, say #$%& it, and get another tattoo to compliment the first.



Who exactly is that handing out lemonade in the form of permanent ink? That's the super uber-talented hand of Mel Wayland from Sugar Shack Tattoo in Kincardine. She's great...the tattoo's great...and I'm as happy as a pig in poop.



Now I've got something to be proud of where once I had just a memory of spontaneity. I've still got that faded, shabby reminder of friendship, but it's super new and improved. I'm happy, and there were no lemons harmed in the process.