Sometimes -- and completely out of the blue -- I remember that I'm getting my first tattoo in a few months, and every time I do, I do a happy dance.

I think I project a very innocent and young persona. Short. Fresh-faced. Sweet voice. More people mistake me for a teenager than an adult. I'm pushing thirty and I continue getting carded at bars, theatres, liquor stores, etc. It would be flattering if it wasn't for the fact that people usually assume I am teenager (teenagers included) and have been making this awful assumption for years. I've even had people at restaurants ask me if I wanted a kid's menu (granted, this happened when I was in my early 20s, but still!).

So I'm excited because I think getting a tattoo will be like chipping away at some of the varnish or polish I have; I won't be as innocent; I won't project such a young persona. I'll feel like I do those days I wear lacy underwear and a matching bra: bold.

I'm excited to get this visual representation of me: a typewriter with the quote,

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.

I'm excited because I've wanted and wished and dreamt about getting inked ever since I was 17 years-old. I'm excited because, while it won't be visible to most people, I'll know that I have the tattoo.

And while people usually get tattoos because they want to show them off, I'm happy that I'll be one of the few people who'll see mine. I know I'll show my girls and sisters, but I won't flaunt my tattoo. At least not this first one. I want this one to be extra special.

Funny how young I feel now that I've re-read what I just wrote. Lord a'mercy.