SOTC Promo

SOTC Promo
A new novel…by me

Friday, September 28, 2012

A Lil' Dilemma

So, I got a tattoo over a year ago on my wrist that says, "Who Cares" because it is a motto I have lived by for a very long time.  It began sometime around 2001, when I wasn't going to be able to make my car payment on time (mind you...it was going to be like a day or two late).  I called Mike from work in tears telling him about my problem.  I NEVER went to Mike for money.  Ever.  And I didn't then either.  He and I were very independent with our money and I clearly didn't make what he made at the time.  We didn't even share a checking account until we'd been married for a couple of years and that's after we'd been together for 7!

But, I digress.

I was working in escrow at the time and in my little office crying about paying a bill on time and he had to pull himself away to comfort me with these words, "Who cares?"  I was shocked.  Who cares?  I did.  But then he added, "If you don't pay it today, are they coming to take the car?  No.  Are they going to break your legs?  No.  Are you going to die?  No.  Is it the end of the world?  No.  So...who cares?"

I've held onto that moment and those words for a very long time.  I've used them when I've felt like my world was falling apart and others had the joy of shitting on it in the process.  I've used those words when I've thought all was lost, and I found myself.  I've used those words even against the man who shared them with me in the first place in order for me to find peace in a moment.  But they are words that forever mean something to me and they are words that Mike has shared time and time again in moments when I've needed to hear them the most throughout our 15 years together and 10 years of marriage.  I have, since, changed the phrase to "Don't give a shit" on my mirror included in a long list of positive affirmations.  Not as pretty, but very effective.

But, I digress...again.

Here's my problem.  My tattoo...kinda looks like shit.  The ink didn't take in the word "who", so it looks faded and well...like shit.  I'd like to get it fixed, but the irony is what I'm fixing.  If I were to share this with a tattoo artist to fix, the hilarity that would follow would be a tad uncomfortable.  But "who cares," right?  My tattoo looks like it is in need of a touch up, but "who cares."  I'm not happy with how it turned out, but "who cares?"

Shit.

I guess I do.  The irony is thick with this problem and I'm conflicted because I truly have lived a pretty hard freaking life by these words and how can I even think about fixing it?  But "who cares" that I want my "who cares" tattoo fixed?  Ugh.  See?  Not sure what to do.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Go get it fixed and when the tattoo artist mocks you for it (and they undoubtedly will) simply say this...

"I think this tattoo is perfectly fine the way it is, besides, who cares, right?"

Then say...

"I just like it so much, I want the exact same thing tattooed over this one so it's twice as good."

And after all that, if it is still a mess just say who cares...

~ The author of "Who Cares"
; )

Kathy said...

Thank you, Mike. I will take that into consideration...kinda. ; )-