It took three cover-up attempts — and as many artists — to finally get something I can live with.
I have six tattoos and I hate four of them. I can spot a bad tattoo artist from a mile.
Have I ever clawed at my chest while looking in the mirror and muttering to myself, "What have I done"? Maybe a time or two.
It took me 20 years to fix the mistakes my original tattoo artist made when he uttered the word absolutely nobody wants to hear mid-tatt: "Oops."