Mia: Shaken Not Stirred

The true life stories of a NYC female.

Monday, May 07, 2007


Every time I have a major academic milestone in my life I get a tattoo to commemorate it. I’m up to five now and in a few days will be getting a small tattoo on my wrist to commemorate getting my BA. Just like my other tattoos the new one will be situated so that it can be covered with clothing when I am at work. In this case a wrist watch with a wide band should do the trick.

My paternal grandparents are very old fashioned they’ve never seen my tattoos. I got the first of my tattoos the day I graduated from high school and by that time my grandparents were already living in Florida. My grandpa is of the mind set that tattoos are for bikers, gang bangers and prison inmates. My grandfather by the way has a small tattoo on his arm with my grandmother’s name. I’ll leave it to you to guess which one of the three categories his bad ass self fell into once upon a time back in the ‘50’s.

During dinner last night my father informed me that my grandparents are coming down to New York this summer. In between bites of his salad he started laughing and reminded me that his parents don’t know about my tattoos. I told him that it was no biggie my t-shirt sleeves, and my hair will cover the tattoos up. He then reminded me that at one point during their visit there will be a family reunion at the beach and my tattoos will then be exposed. Then he started laughing like a maniac. My dad was a happy man.

I think that this is his payback for the sleepless nights I caused him as a teenager.

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Posted by @ 11:12 AM
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