Once I turned eighteen I decided that I was going to get a tattoo. I grew up in a strict household so for you to understand my rebellion you must understand that this was a monumental decision in my teenage years. This summer, June 5 , 2010 I got a tattoo. My best friend Sarah Heinz and I were sitting at her apartment debating on something to do for the evening. Both of us already being a little on the wild side, we had to do something outrageous. I met Sarah at my old job and we’ve been best friend ever since. She already has plenty of tattoos herself and we had always talked about getting one together. So as we debated and searched for one that we both could agree upon, we devised a great plan.
We hoped up off the couch, got in our cars, and headed that way. A quick stop to the ATM and we drove to the nearest decent tattoo parlor. We drove to Downtown Little Rock to go to 7th Street Tattoos and they were going to charge us an outrageous price for the small tattoo we wanted. They were going to charge us one hundred and thirty dollars for one hundred dollar tattoo. To say the least, we left in a hurry. We thought about other places to go and called Anchor Tattoo in Bryant. They seemed to be the right choice. The walls were covered in vintage paintings, artworks, crosses and anchors. When you walk in there’s one big room for the tattoos and two smaller rooms reserved for piercings. I walked up to the counter and the owner’s wife, Katie, came up and talked to me about my tattoo. She asked me where I wanted it, what I wanted, and if I wanted any color. She also gave me a price estimate. She told me that she would take good care of me and to go sit down while she finished up her previous tattoo session. As I was sitting and waiting, my nerves were beginning to get the best of me. Before I knew it, it was my turn. I walked up to this long black chair that looked like a massage chair. She had me lay on my stomach with my jeans low enough for her to reach my hip....
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