Political Debate

Went to Greensboro this past weekend to see the folks one last time before baby. Over breakfast we embarked on the recent Supreme Court ruling to "...uphold a law that banned a type of late-term abortion."
A few months ago, my uncle made a comment to my father that, now that I am pregnant, he said maybe I will believe in Right-to-Life. I found this to be crap and it really made me mad. So this topic is a big topic for us to get into over bacon and eggs.
My dad said 2nd term abortion is terrible and should be banned. I can't disagree - its horrible. Partial birth abortion? Terrible. But, the people who make these kinds of choices are not simply "lazy" and just getting around to the abortion decion late. They aren't whores or uneducated people who think its a form of birth control. First of all, its a small percentage of women,... I won't throw out numbers since I'm not able to find it online as back-up. Second of all, many of them are babies that will never survive outside the womb, or have a disability that will create an extremely difficult life like cerebral palsy, spina bifida, or face hundreds of other medical difficulties. I have felt our baby move at 18 weeks while I waited to find out if she passed her cerebral palsy testings... I cannot imagine the difficulty in having to terminate at that point. And yet, if the odds were stacked against us, we'd probably lean toward doing it. I couldn't stand to get more attached to someone who would simply not thrive passed birth - how horrible. Its all too tragic to think about.
So my mom chimes in, "I don't see why these people who are Right-to-Lifers don't just stand outside the abortion clinic and offer to take care of these kids that people can't care for or aren't able to care for. If they believe in life so much, where are they after its born?"
To which I look at my dad, "Cause these are the same people, like dad, who also don't want their taxes raised to cover medicaid & welfare."

Over the Hill

What a stupid phrase. But, ...I guess I am.
I am now *gulp*, thirty.

A bond that can't be... laser removed?

A and I have had a long distant friendship that has survived many things and celebrated the milestones with fun adventures - if getting a tattoo at 16 can be called an "adventure" (I think it can).
Yes, yes - 16 years old.
We photocopied the 'rents drivers licenses and forged letters that basically stated "Please allow my daughter to get this tattoo while I am at work," ...and... it worked. Then again, we were at a parlor called "Ray's Tattoos" in Elgin and I remember it barely having any heat in the dead of winter, January 1994. Not the classiest joint for high schoolers to be hanging out in.
We had no idea what we were going to get emblazened on our bodies forever. In fact, I was the hesitant one... the whole idea was a bit too crazy for me. Couldn't we just get belly button rings?
The night before, I decided to draw one gecko chasing the other around in a circle. Hey, I went to Maui in the 6th grade and always liked the gecko towel I bought there. What a great icon to put on my body! Forever! A still had no idea and decided to see what creative spark happened when we arrived at Ray's the next morning.
A decided to go first (after all, it was her idea and I was still a bit chicken shit). She decided to tattoo her stomach so she could hide it. Good idea! I'll copy her. After all, I don't want to be a business woman in a power suit with hose someday and a big gecko on my ankle. (Yes, this was the thought that flashed before my mind. Pantyhose and all).
A wanted a bird of paradise but liked the shape of a smaller bird's wings - I helped Ray combine them into one. One photocopy later and she's ready-to-go. Watching her flinch and describe the pain to me was surreal. What the hell was I doing? What the hell am I thinking? How the hell can I make this pain less intense for me?!. I scribbled out one of the geckos (ok, its already half its size! There's half the pain gone already!).
When its my turn on the table, I tell the guy to bump it up higher. A said it had hurt when he got closer to her public bone so I wanted to steer clear from THAT area. He moves it up higher and more to the middle of my belly. "Want it there?" Um, yeah - sure! Why not?
After the tattoos are done we are instructed to go buy hemorroid cream. Yes, that's right. Hemorroid cream. Two high school giggly girls obtaining illegal tattoos are now told to go to the local Walgreens with a straight face and purchase 2 tubes of Preparation-H. And not only that, but we have to bring it to school and reapply throughout the day. We laughed and laughed and... I still did not realize what I had just done.
We go out that night and show off our new artwork. "Cool! Wow! Did it hurt? Where did you go?"
We were on the forefront of a big wave. We were one of the originals to get tattoos and we were cool.
We also realized - we could never ever tell our parents our surrender to a fate worse than death.
A eventually goes back home and my week marches on. I think I managed to keep the secret from my parents for one full week... maybe it was only 5 days. My tattoo was revealed early one morning when getting a cup of coffee... yawning... and my shirt raised.
Dad asks, "What's that?"
Me, "What's what?"
"That?"
"What?"
Getting pissed off and walking over to me, "On your stomach!"
"Oh! *chuckle* ... THAT! Oh, its nothing. Its one of those stick on tattoos [quickly exiting the room]"
I get in the shower and actually, yes - I did this, try to scrub it off. What WAS I thinking? Holy shit - this thing is really on me!
I go to school and am later home for dinner. My mother's eyes scan me like an airport metal detector.
"Your father said you have a dragon on your stomach."
"No. Its a gecko."
"You have a tattoo?"
"Its a stick-on tattoo."
"Lemme see."
"No."
Mom is clearly not into game playing, "Come here."
I walk over and lift my shirt. She inspects closer and rubs it. We both know its a real tattoo.
"When did you do that?!."
The conversation goes back and forth. Dad rolls his eyes in a feeble attempt to save his sanity. My mother blows her nose - her daughter now ruined for life. I sit there mortified with the reality that I did not plan on this being here forever.
And within minutes... my mother laughs. She actually laughs and says, "Boy, that's going to look like shit when you get pregnant someday. Its going to look like an alligator." Dad laughs at this comment.
I fume quietly in my hot seat.


Why this story? Why this story - now? Well, yes, I am pregnant and yes, the tattoo looks like shit. But, honestly, it began looking like shit within 2 years of having it done. Apparently, the "artist" was cheap, not good and the location on our bodies was a terrible choice. I've wanted to cover it up over the years but A has actually expressed sorrow at the thought of me masking what we did together (never mind the fact that her parents still remain in the dark on this and they have since seen mine. You'd think by NOW they'd know about hers and if she really was upset about me covering up my tattoo... that she'd realize she's been covering up hers for years... in the figurative sense). *wink*
So, I haven't covered it up - yet. I wanted to have kids and then do it after my belly wasn't going to stretch out to crazy proportions. I also wavered on the idea that I should respect A's wishes and stay true to the bond we sealed in high school. I, basically, haven't done anything with it.
The tattoos are now on the chopping block again. A's hubby hates hers and has requested that she have hers removed. I'm not sure how many times the subject has been tossed around but she is now finally warming up to the idea of having it nixed. She told me this late last week.
"It costs $150 per square inch, eash session. I don't know how many sessions it would take. I'm thinking about doing it."
I think she was running the idea by me to see if I would freak out. I didn't. I understand... I think she has just caught up to me. I've hated mine for awhile now (again, its so blurry/fuzzy that its just sad looking). The idea of what we did hasn't been as tied-in with my tattoo as maybe the idea was with hers. I tell people the story each and everytime they ask but I never REALLY thought about how wild, crazy, ...bonding it was. I have to admit, it will be sad if we get them removed as if we are taking a big eraser to our past. But, I really don't think we will ever lose what the whole point - the whole meaning - behind this moment was. I will be sad if she removes it not because SHE wants to but rather is pressured to do so... I know that will be more offensive to removing the past than if she chooses to do it for herself. Having someone else erase your past is a little different. But if A and I decide its time to move on and grow up (and to have a little less color ON our lives), than this is OK with me. Lasers can't remove friendship bonds.