Last Angels Tattoo


He sits across from me at My Momma’s kitchen table. A gesture so familiar, yet so foreign. He slides a tiny camera stand across the table towards me. I inspect the legs. This will do, yes this will do I tell him.

He has a proposition for me. One he’s sure I’m crazy enough to agree to. One he thinks all the Southern Momma’s that read the blog will eat up. I’d yet to hit 4,000 followers; that elusive number evading me. I was so close I could taste it. He wanted to propose a contest of sorts. Once I hit 4k he would get my logo tattooed on him. I stared at him wide-eyed as he sat across my Momma’s kitchen table explainin’. Was he serious? Of course he he was serious. In the almost 20 years I’d know this boy he was never not serious; never one to not go all in.

I paused for a few long minutes. I lamely replied with some incoherent Southern ramble about what couldn’t be done hopin’ to stall the conversation. The days and the seasons changed, and then that text. That text came through, “You’re almost to 4k can I haz tattoo now?” Truthfully, I hadn’t much paid attention. It’s why I’ll never be internet famous. I never much was one for numbers. I swore under my breath. It really was my fault for entertaining’ this nonsense to begin with.

I placed the phone on the makeshift camera stand… the numbers counted down lettin’ me know I was recordin’. I jumped and hollered as I told everyone about the tat: The hashtag #SorrymMom my new apology. 

The number came and went. I tried to stall yet again’. Proclaimin’ we had to wait and make sure no one unfollowed. I quickly realized even if they did unfollow I still smashed the goal. Why was I so nervous? I wasn’t even the one gettin’ inked.

The shop had been picked, the outline drawn.  All that was left to do was arrive. He pulled up slowly in his new Jeep; climbed up the passenger side. That new car smell hit me right in the nose. The nerves built. “Have I told you how terrified of needles I am?” He laughed, hopin’ I wouldn’t pass out act a fool.

We arrived, assesin’ the situation, like the tourist I felt. An elderly woman sat near me knittin’. I couldn’t help but be amused.  It was finally our turn. I followed the hallway shorter than it seemed. I watched. I filmed. I chatted. I awed. I was proud of myself and I hadn’t even done much.


“Now we deserve popsicles, exclaimed.”  “Seriously,” He hollered back!” What it’s just across the and street and we earned them. 

Show 'em some love Here and peep the tattoo artist here

#SaturdayDownSouth: Last Angels Tattoo
Let this be the first of my #MiniMovies. A snippet of my#SaturdayDownSouth with Seven as he got my logo tattooed on his leg at Last Angels by instagram.com/milan_mone. Y'all enjoy.
Posted by GlitznGrits on Sunday, February 14, 2016
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1 comment

  1. I am terrified of needles, too. I don't know if I will have the guts to get a tattoo.

    ReplyDelete

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