Better than sliced bread

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The funny thing about the internet is, seeing one thing will randomly make you wonder about another.  This morning, I read that Betty White's birthday is today, January 17. She turned 98 years old.

This woman is, in my opinion, a national treasure. Betty White starred in a show about being old that went off the air before my kids were even born.  Hell, she's the best thing since sliced bread.  

WAIT. 

Correction... sliced bread is the best thing that's happened since Betty White. 

That's right. Betty White is older than sliced bread.  

So, THAT will be my new comparison. Not that I hear many people say the bread thing anymore, but saying, "That's the BEST thing since Betty White," seems like a trend I could start. 

Now, the best thing that's happened to me since Betty White? I got (another) new tattoo. That's right. I know. If you read last week's post about getting a tattoo, you're probably thinking, "Uhhh... you JUST LITERALLY GOT ONE. "

I know. I know. But hear me out. See, remember how I said last week that the younger daughter turned 18? Well... for her 18th birthday, she requested a matching tattoo with me. And me being me, I couldn't deny that request. So, back we went to the tattoo parlor. 

She had a bit of nervous anticipation in her eyes as we waited for Craven to finish with his last appointment. 

Betty White would have had a bit of advice for that nervousness. "Butterflies are like women—we may look pretty and delicate, but baby, we can fly through a hurricane."

And Betty is right. Though, to ease her mind a little, Alex preferred I went first so she could actually see what happens.  Before the needle hit my skin that night, I had—to date—11 tattoos. And, I guess, Alex has never come to see me get one done.  Hmmm. 

So, I hopped up on the chair, had the stencil applied, looked at where he put it and gave the thumbs up. It was just a small rose on my ankle. Really, a 20-minute job. 

I spent the whole time with my camera in hand, trying out the video and snapping photos in between clips.  I hardly noticed the needle, though it did make the nerves twitch my foot a few times. 

Alex still seemed skeptical as I finished up and she took my place on the chair. 

"Really," I said with a sly smile, "It's not THAT bad."

Craven agreed, "It's like sunburn irritation... stings, but it's no big deal."

So, the stencil went on and she sat there still slightly unsure. He did his thing, and the face she made as he lined in the stem was priceless. PRICELESS. 

"Ok... maybe it hurts a little more than a sunburn... but that's because its on the bone right there," I offered. Her larger-than-life eyeroll made me laugh and shrug. 

"Listen, we all know there's something not quite right with me," I admitted. Craven, of course, agreed.  THANKS for that.  

"Well... how many people giggle during a tattoo?"

Ok. FINE. He did have a point. 

When Bill wandered in, he laughed too. Ok... FINE.  I do have a weird tolerance for pain.  But still...  Betty save me... is there a pearl of wisdom she can offer to make me feel better?

Ahhh.... "If one has no sense of humor, one is in trouble."

Apparently, laughing at me and a bit about glittered unicorn poop got Alex through the 20 minutes of tattoo. 

And, Betty White got me through telling you this story. 

When we left, Craven looked at me and said... "See you next week?"

I laughed... maybe in two. 

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