Pigments of Imagination

I took my best friend to get her belly pierced for the first time and I went in for my fifth and sixth one. Mike was completely professional and accomodating to my scared bff. The place was clean and the vibe was delightful. Sometimes you go into one of these joints and get the cold shoulder from stuck up types. Not here though. Five stars across the board!

Oh man, I don't know if I should write this review.  I was shocked to even find a listing for this place on Yelp.  It was a long time ago, so who cares, right?  Plus, I'll be the first to review it- so woohoo, time to over share!

I was a rebellious 14-year-old and I had just graduated from 8th grade when I asked my mother if I could get a tattoo.  I never dreamed she would say yes.  When she did, I stood there with my mouth open wide and nothing to say.  I think my brain had to be rebooted from shock.  I went back to my room pondering whether or not this was some sort of poker game where my mom was calling my bluff.  If you knew my mother, you would be shocked too.  She put me in etiquette school at the age of five, FIVE!  She kept a home so clean it was showroom worthy.  She put me in piano lessons, dance lessons, singing lessons and even baton twirling lessons for God's sake.  That night I considered the possibility of alien life on our planet.  

Fast forward two weeks: she actually signed a consent form... and I actually got a tattoo, at 14.  Who tattoo's a 14-year-old?  I had to wear tube socks around my grandparents for years to hide my ankle.  There was little Morgan, on family vacations, wearing tube socks in the swimming pool.  I had to make up excuses, like the bottom of the pool hurt my feet, so that my family didn't think I had some sort of mental disorder.

In the end, it is so small that I forget it's even there.  It also reminds me of my powerful persuasion skills.  I mean, that year I talked my mother into letting me get a tattoo and my 8th grade English teacher into giving me an A from an F on a paper I never turned in.  Yeah, I'm pretty awesome.  

Everyone should make this mistake once.  Whenever one of my drunk friends yell, "lets all get tattoos".  I say, no way, I already made that mistake.  Plus, I was young enough that I didn't have the guts to get anything big or life changing.  Who the hell knows what I would've inked on my body had I been 18.  I could have ended up with a tramp stamp!  

I should mention that the guy did a good job, even if nobody can tell what it is (it's fun to let people guess).  The shop was clean and they definitely were gentle on me, as they should have been considering I was just 14.  Only 3 stars because I got my tattoo over a decade ago and that guy is probably long gone.  Also, nobody should ever tattoo a 14-year-old, even with parental consent.  

Final thought:
Hey kids, two lessons-
1.  While your mother is going through a divorce (or two) you can pretty much talk her into anything.
2. Here is the place to go if you really wanna piss off your family.