The bucket list was born as part of a new years resolution. And i know some of you just rolled your eyes then. I felt the impending judgment emanate from my laptop.

“New year new me!” Is one of my most favorite lies i tell myself, because i’m already off to a rough start. Its January 1st and i just fell over on the dance floor whilst slut dropping to Beyonce. If you think it’s getting better from there, it’s not. I’m gonna wake up about lunch time to discover I’ve lost my shoes and there’s a mysterious black stain on the butt of my super cute spell and the gypsy WHITE (dickhead) playsuit I’m never getting out. Naturally, as all new years resolutions before, we didn’t really kick things off in a timely fashion. In fact, it wasn’t until August that anything became of that infamous list.

Bucket list item #2 - Get a tattoo.

Some of you might be sitting there covered in ink up to your ears thinking ‘big whoop’, but it actually is a big whoop. I have some pretty…odd…commitment issues. Example: I can’t re-sign the lease on my house. I managed to sign the original lease, but when it came up for renewal, I panicked! 12 months is a long time to commit to one house. What if i find a house i connect with better 6 months in!? Do i just let that house pass me by? My current landlord probably spits on the ground i walk.

Despite these issues with commitment, getting a tattoo still made it onto the bucket list. Pretty high up too.

The design process was the longest and hardest part. And actually began years before pen went to paper and the bucket list was drafted. Back when I decided I wanted to be a ‘Bad Bitch’ and all the ‘Baddest Bitches’ have tattoos.

Steps to becoming a bad bitch:

1. Download Pinterest app ✔

2. Create generic ‘tattoo ideas’ folder ✔

3. Fill folder with butterflies, flowers and small abstract shapes on the wrists of hot girls.

Oh yeah, we’re already halfway there ladies.

My boyfriend quickly became very tired of the endless ‘small cute tattoos for girls’ pins i sent him. Given that our relationship is not just that of love but also of survival, and in a bid to prevent this olive skinned food providing (he’s a chef) hot piece of ass from leaving my useless needy ass, i issued myself with a direct ‘cease and desist’ order effective immediately……..and began sending the pins to his younger brother/housemate. Not a food provider…..dispensable.

The added bonus of this new direction my spam was heading, is that this younger, non-food providing housemate is quite the talented sketch artist. Personalize that pretty rose for me so that i may be the only one in possession of that specific rose and am therefor, original.

Eventually I came to the conclusion that the only thing I wanted permanently on my body, was a tribute to the love of my life. The best thing to ever happen to me and that gives me nothing but pure joy……………my dog.
If you don’t like dogs/are a terrible person, then you probably don’t want to subscribe to this blog. I can already guarantee you a solid 80% of this blog will contain ‘love for dogs’ content. I. Love. Dogs.
No man will ever be as excited for you to get home from work as your dog. Your boyfriend isn’t going to meet you at the front door shaking his butt ready to spend endless amounts of time with you.
If you served up raw meat on a plate for dinner, your boyfriend isn’t going to pretend that shits ok. No he’s definitely going to say something and you’re definitely going to self destruct. Because you’re ‘useless’ and a ‘terrible cook’ and ‘no ones gonna wanna marry someone who can’t even cook mashed potatoes’ and then you’ll find the foetal position in the corner of the kitchen while you wait for your knight in shining chef pants to say something sweet like ‘It’s ok, we can get take out. Whatever you like’. Which in all honesty, that last part is just another mental break down waiting to happen. How Am I supposed to know what I want for dinner? I don’t even know if i want to cut bangs again or not! *insert dramatic whining here* But this whole ordeal could of been avoided if you’d just opted to feed your dog instead. ‘Raw meat again heck yes! Best day EVER!’ Their enthusiasm for the small stuff is really under appreciated.

So i found a tattoo on pinterest that was SUPER cute and eligible for a spot on my body after a few changes. I put the sketch artist to work to make the dog look more like my ‘goodest girl in the whole world’ and then i sent the sketch and the pin to the tattoo artist and asked him to ‘smoosh these two together’. Now it’s lucky this guy is friends with the chef because I’m using words like ‘dainty’ and ‘petite’ to describe what i want my small, cute girl and dog tattoo to look like to this well dressed viking metal dude. Who specializes in full body, full detailed masterpieces. I think most people would realize, given the size of what i wanted, putting up with my ridiculous methods of communication is just not worth the money and told me to go get some henna or something.

August 11th 2019 - T-Day

I feel pretty good to be honest. I’m settled. Today my flesh will be savaged by hundreds of tiny needles and i’m totally OK with it. I’m happy with the design and last night i settled on a destination for this new ink. First ink. A suitable, smart destination. Top of the ribs, just under the bra line. I can still show off my ‘bad girl’ ink when wearing a crop or prancing around the beach in a bikini, but can also cover it whenever visiting Mum. Suitable. Smart. Then i rocked up to my appointment at the well dressed vikings residence and all of a sudden, this destination i chose does not seem so smart anymore. I’m going to have to get my arm out of my shirt, and i’m going to have to do so, without exposing my left tit. Panic.

I’m an awkward person, there is no other word that can describe me so perfectly. It’s a simple task i had to complete. Loose your arm, lay down and hold it above your head so that the canvas is accessible. But i had to make things weird and ask like a dickhead “so, do. Do you need me to umm, get my arm out of the sleeve, or…..?’ Obviously. We’re not tattooing my t-shirt here. Pretty sure no one has ever taken as long to slip an arm out of a sleeve as i did on this day. So concerned with mutinous boob that has a bad habit of making surprise guest appearances whenever i decide to wear strapless, that i’m clutching it for dear life with my right hand, making slipping my left arm out, highly difficult. The men in the room on that day (my boyfriend and the well dressed viking) were so patient with me and i am so thankful for that. Eventually i made it to the bench, arm out and overhead in what would of been a ‘paint me like one of your french girls’ moment if not for the extra chins and clothes.

The sensation surprised me. I was expecting an unbearable burning sort of pain, but it wasn’t. It had its moments, but they passed. It was a mixture of sharp cutting, burning and a numb sort of throb. Didn’t cry. Also surprising.

The entire process took under an hour, that’s including the stenciling and me taking a good 10 minutes to decide whether i liked it there or not…..or whether it should be a little smaller…..so patient.

And now, I’m a total bad bitch. Who REALLY loves her dog.

I don’t believe anxiety is all panic attacks and fear, It’s also the small stuff like over-thinking. And it’s often the small stuff that hold us back the most. I spent a good 6 years thinking about getting a tattoo and all the reasons not to. If I’ve learnt anything from this experience its that sometimes you just gotta be a little brave. Some things are just not worth stressing over. When we look back, it’s the things we didn’t do that we regret the most.