#25: Get a tattoo with my sister

Katy and I had talked about getting tattoos for a while. We joked about it. Joking turned to serious talks as I talked about moving away from home. She made me pinky-swear and then solemnly swear to get matching tattoos before I bid au revoir to Marquette.

I never fully intended on going through with the promise. I hate pain! Like I'd subject myself to it voluntarily.

The idea was tempting, though. My sister and I having matching three-star tattoos on our shoulders. A symbol of the solidarity of our family bond. The idea of the two of us sharing something that nobody else in the world had was appealing. Plus I liked the idea of having a tale to tell. Of being able to say "yeah, I got a tattoo. I dealt with the pain because I wanted it so bad."

I had contemplated inking myself since I was seventeen. At twenty-three, on the verge of a new chapter in my life, the contemplating was done. I'd made a promise to my sister and myself.