What the hell was I thinking!!!!!

I suppose we all get a few times in our lives where we pause and wonder why the f**k we did something we did. It's that whole "damn,I don't know what I was thinking" moment.
I have had a few of those,like many have.The most recent one was a "why the hell did I allow my brother to give me a tattoo?"
You are maybe wondering if he is a professional...sadly no.Actually my crazy eldest sister is and I never took her up on the offer.Why did I let my brother tag me? LOTS oF FEAR AND PRESSURE.Okay,so he is almost 11 years my junior and thin as a rail,but from the age of 5 up until 17 (he is now 19) he would beat the snot out of me on a hourly basis."He is your little brother.You are older.You should know better." I would hear this constantly.What the hell should I know better then? I did not provoke the kid! He would out of the blue just decide to turn to me while we were sitting on the couch and punch me in the mouth.Perhaps he was bored.Or thought the shirt I was wearing was to purple that day. I to this day wonder how I provoked him....but this is another story for another time.
Back to the tattoo.He was sad.Or at least seemed to be.I was stupid wanting him to feel better.Hoping this could make us connect as brother and sister.It was Thanksgiving.He was leaving for California ,and The few months before he had been using a sewing needle and pen ink to create a pretty offensive tattoo on himself.He thought he was a artist and although offensive he did do a pretty good job on it.The lines were straight and there was not a touch of ink bleeding away from the design.It seemed perfectly stamped. He looked at me with his puppy dog eyes asking if he could give me a small tattoo on my arm.It made me remember the human side of him that I rarely got to see.Me being the"I don't want to hurt your feelings girl" said yes when it should have been a big fat NO!!!
I was very insistant upon the cleanliness of it.It was pretty much on the up and up for a needle tattoo.

While the point went in and out of the flesh on my upper right arm,my brain finally kicked in."What if he screws this up on purpose?" or "what if he gives me something that I did not want?". I remembered how spiteful he could be...and I was stupid enough to let him permenently mark me up?????
A little late for that now! I said he could give me a small  pretty cross.When it was done I ended up with a small cross...but it looked like I got it in prison.Perhaps the claw like marks and spots of ink where there should not be freaked me out.I smiled and like a good sister ,told him how he did such a good job.Inside I hated it.He was going cross country to live.I might not see him for awhile,so I wanted us to part on good terms.Something else ended up happening that made it NOT be on good terms anyway.I felt like a ass.


When I got home it really scabbed up.I scratched at it when I knew I shouldn't have but the itching made me nuts! I ended up with a scar the size of a 50 cent piece.I had dug the ink out without realizing it.So now I had a big cross scar.


About 4 months had gone by and my brother had come back to NY because of  money troubles.He had stayed with my sister in Florida for a couple of weeks.She is the actual tattoo artist.She is well known for her work in that industry .My brother got his hands on some machiene parts and put together a Frankenstein creation of a tattoo machiene.So when he came back,he came to visit me.He was super pissed that the janky tattoo he gave me was gone. He pulled out this creature that ran on a phone charger cord that he stripped the wire cover from.My mother says "You can cover up her scar".My face drops."I'm okay really." I say quickly.Then I fear for the destruction of my apartment.When the boy does not get his way....Things and people PAY.
Reluctantly I say "okay....but only large enough to cover the scar"
I picked out a nice little sun design I had seen on a tarot card.Angry at what I chose he starts ranting "so now you are a witch?! " It hurt me...not because I was a witch (because I am not) but because it hit another part of me that did not heal from high school.My former best friend would publicly mock me,saying I was a witch.I was sort of a radical Christian at the time and I think he knew how much it burned me.Stupid little f**k that he was!



  My brother agreed to it as long as he could change somethings.He was going to do a tattoo anyway so I thought it would be best to at least get something along the lines of what I wanted.It seemed to take forever.Sparks flew from this jacked up monster of a thing.I sat in a chair for a real time of 7 hours! He made it WAYYYYYYYYYYYY bigger then I wanted and barely even covered the scar.It was a revenge thing.I will tell you in another post what for.It was not to painful at all....until the last 2 hours.He dug in my flesh like he was tunneling to China. So now I had a HUGE tattoo.The worst part was it was a mess.The color was uneven and did not even fill in the design.The outline had erattic black lines and spots from where he had slipped.I hated it! I still do.
I wish I had the money to at least get it fixed a bit.I am sadly to broke for that.It does not fit into the budget.

I regret having NO spine to say say no.
I would take the beating over the mark any day.
Well I was thinking of how horrible it looks as I was in the shower today.That is why I blogged about it.If nothing else I hope someone will look at my spinelessness and say "I am not going to let someone do something to me that I dont want,just to be nice".
The moral of this is to stand up and not back down.If you believe in anything you can not let anyone take it away from you,even in fear.
Blog ya later.