Confessions Of An Old Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

be pretty rad.”
    I thought for a minute and then I realized this was probably the best option, if it was done tastefully. I needed one that could be seen if I wanted, but that I could keep hidden when needed.
    “But what would I get? I want it to look as good as possible. If I’m gonna have this thing on me for the rest of my life, I want it to mean something.”
    “What’s your favorite flower?” she asked.
    “White roses. But I’m not putting flowers on my body.”
    “How about a deceased loved one? Anyone you want to memorialize?”
    I thought of my late Nana, but I always thought it was tacky when people memorialized the deceased by permanently searing their likeness on their bodies. “No, not really.”
    She tapped her chin with a silver-ring-clad forefinger for a few seconds, and then she said, “Are you religious?”
    “Yes. I’m Christian. What does that have to do with a tattoo?” I answered her.
    “I’ve got an idea. Come with me.”
    I followed her to one of the back rooms where she placed a thin white sheet of paper on a table that lit up, sort of like what they use to read x-rays. She pulled out a pencil and started drawing. I watched for nearly twenty minutes until she put down her pencil and held up the thin sheet of paper. “What do you think?” she asked.
    I looked at the sketch and saw before me a beautiful design with curly black lines that wove in and out of each other and in the center was something written in a language I didn’t recognize. “What’s that there in the middle? What does that say?”
    “It’s Latin. Imago Dei . It means, ‘in the image of God.’ What do you think?”
    I stood there looking at it in awe. It was beautiful, I had to admit. And I loved the idea of the Latin writing in the middle and what it meant. This was a way I could still hang onto who I was, even though I was completely transforming into a different person.
    “I’ll take it,” I said without hesitation.
    “Good. Let’s get you prepped and ready.”
    I followed her into another room with a large reclining chair that looked like it belonged in a dentist’s office. It was pretty intimidating.
    “You’ll have to sit sidesaddle so I can reach your back. Pull your shirt up and your pants down,” she instructed.
    I’ve always been a bit shy when it came to nudity, but I unbuttoned my black business slacks and pulled them down low around my hips. I sat on the chair as she’d instructed and pulled my shirt up and tied it in a knot just below my breasts.
    I had anticipated that it might hurt, but nothing could have prepared me for the pain I felt when the needle first touched my white “virgin” skin. It felt like someone was scraping their fingernails along a bad sunburn, but I managed to stay still for the hour it took for her to complete the tattoo. When she was done, she put her tattoo gun down and said, “Turn around and look at your new masterpiece.”
    I hopped down from the chair and walked over to the full-length mirror and turned around.
    “Oh, my God,” I said. I knew what I was doing was pretty serious, but I didn’t know what I expected to see when I looked in that mirror. I thought I’d be upset or maybe even cry when I saw it, but I was surprised at myself when I giggled.
    “You like it?” She sounded proud of her work.
    “I love it.” I couldn’t believe I said it, but it was true. It was actually pretty awesome. Plus, it would give me more credibility with the motorcycle crew, so there was that.
     
    ***
     
    Monday, I showed my newest artwork to the fellas, whose chins both dropped nearly to the floor.
    “That’s perfect!” said Renley, once he was able to speak.
    “I didn’t think you’d really go through with it,” quipped Beauford.
    “Yeah, well, maybe now you won’t question my commitment to this assignment,” I said.
    “No, we sure won’t,” Renley answered. “Now, are you ready for your final lesson?”
    “My bike is here?” I asked, trying not