A couple of years ago, I actually considered getting a tattoo on my left wrist. I envisioned it being very thin and delicate, somehow incorporating the names or initials of my husband and son in our individual birthstone colors. I got over that, and about that time, I started making and wearing my own Pandora bracelet knock-offs. Chicken, I am. Afraid of pain, I be.
I admit to being traumatized by a tramp stamp that I saw while waiting for my lunch at a fast food restaurant some months back. With my appetite the way it is, this tattoo was the absolute last thing I needed to see. Not only did I lose what little appetite I did have, I haven't gone back to Zaxby's since then.
I will post this picture - it went viral a while ago, and for all you prudes, there is nothing to see but beautifully crafted ink. This woman had a double mastectomy, and I am learning that not everyone wants breast reconstruction. This kind of ink would not have been my choice if my results had come back differently, but I can see the physical and emotional beauty.
"Good psychiatry only happens when the patient gets to the point of deciding to take responsibility for their own choices." Hmm. That's what it says on the framed and matted sign above the receptionist's window in my doctor's office. I always look at it, and it always means something different to me. Today it means I have to be truthful, about important stuff. That may explain the panic attack that keeps spiking.
National Examiner headline: "Who's Gay. Who's Not?" (Who Cares???) I went to a Publix in SODO, I found the miniature pepperoni slices and shredded mozzarella that I needed, and bought myself a good-looking candy bar. Even in the express lane, I had time to scan the headlines. Mirabile visu, there was NOTHING about Caitlyn Jenner, and "the Duggars are going to the penitentiary." I wonder if the local prosecutor is aware of this.
At the end of a long day, I have two new prescriptions, a whole lot of new concerns about side effects, and no lasagna rolls. I did however grate a lot of fresh parm and made decisions regarding things like bechamel sauce and basil leaves. I have another medical-type appointment tomorrow, and I only hope I can stand long enough to finish the lasagna rolls. I also hope today's rainstorm did not wash out my herb garden, yet again.
Fear is still the mind-killer. Crap.