This entry has been on my mind for over a week now. So much so, I nearly forgot it wasn't yet written. 

I woke up one morning, not so long ago, and the first thing i saw when my eyes opened was the small tattoo of a red apple on my wrist. And the first thought to pop into my head? I like it! Making it the first time in the five months since having that small, red apple tattooed on my wrist I've had that thought.

First of all, I wasn't drunk. I was dead sober and had planned for it, specifically for nearly three weeks, and in a more general sense, since I was 16. Maybe earlier. But I know for sure I wanted a tattoo at 16. It was a henna-ish sunburst I'd seen on the top of a model's foot in a magazine. I think it was Sassy. But I was afraid of the pain and very much concerned with what my mother and future children would think. Not to mention I was 16.

Over the years, the sunburst would be replaced several times in my mind. But the fear never left. During that time, my little sister got a tattoo. My nephew got a tattoo. My MOTHER got a tattoo. And still I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Until one hot night, last summer.

C and I were walking along St. Mark's Place, having come from dinner, I believe. As we passed one more seedy tattoo parlor, I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted and where. The only thing standing in my way was C. He told me I was crazy and made me promise to talk to friends of ours who'd already been tattooed. (C wouldn't think of marring his "pristine canvas".) After the initial disappointment wore off, I did as I was told and consulted M and K.

In the end, no matter how stupid he believed me to be, C accompanied me to the tattoo parlor, was very supportive and didn't call me "trash" until it was all over. He's good like that. 

During the process, when there was pain, I didn't regret it. In the days that ensued, when there was scabbing and peeling, I didn't regret it. And even in all the months that came after, when people would ask me about it and I would tell the story, I didn't regret it. But I didn't like it. 

There was a sense of pride, knowing I'd jumped in and done something a little crazy, if not so spontaneous. But most of the time when I caught a glimpse of that apple, I would cringe a little. Just a little, but enough. I wanted to love it. To be excited by it. 

And finally, I am! And I think I even know what I learned from this one! As adaptable as I like to think I am, sometimes I need time to adjust to change. Even self-initiated change. I need to give change time to sink into my skin.