Healing: The Tattoo, Not the Nation

 I wish I could say the healing of our great nation has begun, but they are still counting votes and the hate keeps spewing. So, I'll keep going with my previous post about tattoo removal. I know, I know. You can't sleep without knowing this stuff. 

First, a photo of the most hideous, confusing and on-its-way-out tattoo. The dead-bird-batman-tribal-band-WTF-tattoo, in all its glory:

I have no words. The tattoo speaks for itself. You tell me what you see. It's kind of like a Rorschach test only better because it goes everywhere I go. "What do you see?" I can diagnose people as they stare at this thing. The tattoo removal lady thought I was a hardcore Batman fan. Not so much. 

Then, a week after the first treatment...

As you can see, it's angry. I'd be an angry tattoo, too if someone were removing me after thirty years of being around. The bulk of the tattoo remains pretty dark but you can see that my skin is thinking, "GET RID OF THIS THING!" 

At least it didn't blister, ooze, peel or scab up. That's big news. 

And, three weeks after treatment (as in, now):

It's beginning to fade. I thought the lady was lying that it would continue to fade between sessions. But, here we are, fading into the distance. Only seven more treatments to go. 

Seven.
More.
Treatments.

Eight weeks apart.... 

8 X 7 = 56 weeks = A year and spare change.....

...here's hoping we know the results of the election by the time I am done getting this thing removed.

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