How to Distract Your Father From Your Tattoo

I am not proud of this, but I did it.

Yesterday, we were at breakfast – mom, daddy, voldemort, and I – as I laugh at a picture texted from my BFF, a picture of her father standing with a woman who is wearing nothing on her breasts except for paint on her nipples (they’re in New Orleans, if that helps with context any), and my father, who I usually remember to wear my fitbit when I’m around, reached out and snags me by the wrist .

My right wrist.

Which has tattooed onto it in cursive, “all these stars.”

“What is this?” He says.

“A tattoo.” Honestly, I am remarkably calm. He told me years ago that I was out of the will because of my triskle tattoo on my lower back, so I don’t know why I generally try to keep two of them hidden (the third is on my hip and not in public viewing range). I decided to try and be a grown up, I guess.

Questions about why would I do that, and what is it, and why would I get that immediately followed from both parents, and I panicked.

I shoved my phone, with pic from BFF still pulled up and enlarged, over to my father and said, “Look, boobs!”