I’ve miraculously made it 30 years without any ironic or genuine tattoos anywhere on my person. No dragons or the warped faces of family members or zodiac signs. But still, sometimes, I kind of want one. Mostly recently, on my ribcage, and more specifically, the Russian Word for onward: продвигающийся. There is a 99% chance I will not be doing this, as to not have 700 of the same future conversations:
Person: what’s that?
Me: It’s my tattoo.
Person: Yeah, but what is it?
Me: It’s the Russian word for Onward.
Person: Why?
Me: I went to Russia once and my great Grandparents were from Russia, and, you know, Onward.
Person: Sure, but still, why?
Me: I don’t know. It was a Monday and it just felt necessary.
Person: I’m still wondering why.
Me: Okay, but why Anything? Why your face? LEAVE ME ALONE.