Not even a real tat. That's paint.
The first three tattoos I have were given to me by Mark Tarelton who was a good.criend from 7th grade. I sat behind him and we teased each other all the time. One day while teasing each other he got up to sharpen bus pencil. He came back to his desk and sat down. Reached behind him and stabbed me in the lower right leg three times. We both laughed later in highschool that I still have 3 black dots on my right leg. Ha ha still have them today. I got my first real tattoo at 50. My beautiful wife wouldn't wear shorts because she has a scar on her right leg knee from surgery. She wanted a tattoo to hide the scar but wouldn't get one because of parental ridicule. Her previous husband felt the same as her parents. Screw that! Im supporting this beautiful lady with great legs. Her mom always calls me bulldog so that's what I got with never give up underneath the dog. It is on my right shoulder. The second real tattoo is on the back of my left calf. It is 3 cyclist in a peleton. Each cyclist represents a decade that I have ridden road bikes. And Im about to complete decade 4 so ill have a 4th cyclist added soon. So my tattoos represent support for my wife and a sport I've been a part of for a big part of my life.
to each there own.i have several
Nope, it’s real but not the quality I expected by the guy doing it, but it does have a significance, it’s the “ Order of Quetzalcoatl”
I have 3 dots tattooed on the web of my left hand, between thumb and forefinger. I don't know where I got them, they've just always been there.
When I was a teenager I lived in Pryor, northeast Oklahoma. I was around 15 or so when I met another kid the same age as me. When we got to talking, and he had the same name as me (Matt). Further conversation showed that we had a lot more in common than that though. We were both born in Sacramento California, same hospital, and even have the same birthdays. He has 3 dots tattooed on the web of his right hand. Somehow, we both wound up at the same place in Pryor, Oklahoma. *insert Twilight Zone music here*. True story.
When I was a teenager I lived in Pryor, northeast Oklahoma. I was around 15 or so when I met another kid the same age as me. When we got to talking, and he had the same name as me (Matt). Further conversation showed that we had a lot more in common than that though. We were both born in Sacramento California, same hospital, and even have the same birthdays. He has 3 dots tattooed on the web of his right hand. Somehow, we both wound up at the same place in Pryor, Oklahoma. *insert Twilight Zone music here*. True story.
I’m getting my life story slowly done Yakuza style, wrist to wrist, collar to cankles. Figure I’m about 2/3 through so that’s where it’s at. I’m having it done in invisible ink so people won’t judge.
I can’t help but think about with that tattoo and similar tattoo to hand tattoos that it would be weird when you’re jerkin your gerkin.
my first tattoo. Got it while in MOS school. I always told my mom that my first tattoo would be for her. My family was/is very against tattoos. She about had a heart attack.
Yeah, Mrs. GED is dead set against them too. It's funny, when our oldest daughter got hers (a flower on her wrist with her boy's names) we came over to her house and she had yellow dishwasher gloves on. She NEVER wore those damned things her entire life, and her mother asked her why she had them on.
I remember she gave her some kind of horseshit song and dance about greasy fried chicken dishes and how she just getting her nails done, then DJ, my youngest daughter said, "hey, let's see em!"
There was a big stare off kinda like the last scene of the Clint Eastwood classic, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, until, reluctantly, Jordan finally removed her gloves.
Mrs. GED damn near pissed her pants!
My mom was never a big fan of tattoos, but she grew to accept them since one of my brothers and I both have them. My other brother is too much of a wussy to get them.
The day I got the one on my shoulder, I was still living at home. I came home from getting the tattoo (road trip to Dallas and back) and went into the bathroom and got a washcloth to cover it. I came out and told her "Mom, can you look at my shoulder, there seems to be something wrong with it." I uncovered the tattoo and she reared back and slapped the holy h8ll out of it. She thought it was a fake tattoo and was screwing with me. The look on her face when she realized it was a real tattoo and how much that hurt was almost worth how much it hurt. We joked about that for many years.
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