My mom is a hot grandma
So my mom turned fifty five a few weeks ago. I was fortunate enough to host her here in Indy for the morning at my salon. She got the works: waxing, facial, chemical peel, hair color and style. She looked AMAZING.
But the real present came afterward: my brother and I bought my mom a Tattoo.
Yep, my quiet, country girl, Elvis and God loving mother is tattooed.
She's been talking about it for ages, and has always had a healthy interest in my tats and my brother's awesome work. Her only real protestations were bogus: don't know what I'd get, where I'd put it, and "my mom would kill me". I'm of the opinion that if you are old enough to join the AARP, you don't need your mother's approval for body modification, but that's just the rebel in me, I suppose.
So, we came up with ideas for design, ideas for where to put it, and ideas on how to break the news to grandma. We also put down a sizeable deposit, so she had no reason to protest.
She was actually really excited about the idea, and went through with it like a champ. I'm very proud of my brave momma.
The only time I thought she'd falter was just as the artist leaned in to begin. Her eyes became saucers and she looked at me like "what the hell did you get me into?" as her fingers squeezed mine into a twisted mass of phalanges.
I had told her it really didn't hurt that bad, which isn't a lie. I really actually enjoy getting them. Masochistic, perhaps, but it's really no big deal to me. My mom, however, actually called me a "fucking liar" and that it hurt "way worse than I was expecting".
So, there you go. Tomato/tomahto, doesn't hurt so much/fucking liar. To each her own.
But my mom is now the proud owner of three beautiful yellow roses across the small of her back: one for her amazing husband (who was totally into his wife getting inked...thinks it's hot) and one each for her even amazing-er children. :)
Happy Birthday, hot momma.