I’m grateful to my husband for many things, but the incident that left an indelible mark on my psyche is the time that he giggled at the heraldic lion I was considering as a tattoo design fifteen years ago. I had chosen a spot which was REALLY UNUSUAL for a tattoo, and which, I reasoned, would only get distorted if I got REALLY FAT.
The spot? My lower back, of course. That’s me: always ahead of the curve. (I was also grungy when grungy wasn’t cool.) These days, of course, everyone and his mother, and his grandmother, and his grandmother’s Zumba instructor, and the Zumba instructor’s domestic partner’s great great granddaughter’s babysitter has a tattoo on the lower back. And my own...READ MORE