I was 17 years old and I wanted a tattoo really bad, I was the youngest out of my family and my brother had 3 already. I was adopted in a shit town in South Dakota and I grew up never feeling like I belonged. Tattoos was the only way I ever felt that I connected with myself. Finally after crying and pleading, my mom agreed to co-sign my first tattoo of a blue tribalish/but not tribal star flower on my upper back. The stipulation was that I was going to get a tattoo if I promised never to get anything pierced. Boy was that the biggest mistake my mother ever made in her life.

I am pretty much done, [snickering to myself] I have said that a sleeve and a half ago. For the most part I am done, I may add on to my back piece but I am still on the fence for that.