I wouldn’t call myself a commitment-phobe, but there are a few things I have trouble committing to:
- opinions (Unless it has something to do with my as-yet-in-progress personal moral code, I probably don’t have an opinion at all.)
- items of clothing (I still have a blouse in the closet with the tag on it because I can’t decide if I look like a giant peach in it or not.)
- paint colors (Our walls– with the exception of one small room that was Easter bunny green– are all the same colors as they were when we moved in.)
- tattoos (I’m not sure I like anything enough to have it permanently marked on my body.)
I have no solution for any of these except the tattoo one. Because Pinterest taught me how to make temporary tattoos.
All you need: parchment paper, a gel pen, and a wet cloth.
Well, and I guess you also sort of need an idea for a tattoo. Now, I know what you’re all going to say. Whenever I have to draw something, I usually default to penis pictures, but I really had no idea how permanent this thing was actually going to be, and I have to make appearances in public this week, so I wimped out. I’m truly sorry.
Instead, I went with the thing that I have been drawing on myself since like middle school.
Yup. If I ever did get a tattoo, it would be a purple fucking daisy chain, because I am just that badass. And where, you might ask, would I get this tattoo? Perhaps as a “tramp stamp” or a “skank flank” or even a “tit tat?” No, darling readers, for that cannot be drawn on in class surreptitiously when you are in the 8th grade and supposed to be learning social studies but the stupid girl who sits behind you keeps kicking your seat and throwing things at you and you would really rather just crawl under the desk and DIE than ever come to class again, but you can’t, so you distract yourself by drawing fake tattoos on your hand.
I was a dark tween.
I could not take a picture of the actual washcloth part because both hands were full, but you get the idea.
Er… Well, that’s sort of the idea, in a blurry, smudgy way.
I decided to try a simpler design on flatter skin, just to see it that would improve things…
Creepy, but technically improved.
In the name of science, I decided to do a quick test on the “permanence” of the tattoo, so I rubbed out Mr. Smiley… Um… That sounds wrong, but… whatever.
Alas, Mr. Smiley was not to be.
But could I erase the fucked up purple not-badass-at-all daisy chain?
Nope. That one was fairly permanent.
So, lucky me, I’m stuck with a temporary-ish stupid-looking tattoo on my hand, which is only marginally better than having one on my face. I guess I can be thankful for that.