M. Marshall 1.31
When I was 17, I knew I would get a tattoo. When I was 18, I was like, “I’m 18, I can’t make a choice for something to be on my body longer than I will be in it”. When I was 19, I knew I would get a tattoo if I felt really committed to it and had wanted it for a while (like, at least a year). Now, I’m 20. I don’t have a tattoo, and I probably won’t get one anytime soon. If I did, it would be something for my siblings or my pets or something, but that’s not a super fun idea for an assignment. Gun to my head, right now, if I had to get a tattoo, I think I would get one on my ankle or arm of the Japanese maple tree growing outside the front of my childhood home. The beauty of Japanese maples is how colorful they are, and getting a tattoo with color ink and not the regular black has a higher risk of allergies, so I don’t know that I would ever risk it.
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In a perfect world; however, I could get whatever tattoo of whatever color, it would have no negative repercussions, and I could remove it with a snap of my fingers if I ever didn’t care for it anymore. If this were the case, of course I would get the gorgeous tree of my childhood home tattooed on me. I would get something like this! It’s obviously not perfect or exactly what I would want, but I’m happy with how it looks.
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It was lots of fun getting to design something meaningful that I would put on my body forever (maybe).