Questions I Hate Answering:

As the youngest child and only girl in my family, I always get the questions about if my brothers beat me up, were mean to me, or if they are over protective. I absolutely hate getting these questions because honestly none of it is true. I have three older brothers ranging from one to four years older than me and for the majority of my life I’m pretty sure they were oblivious to my existence. I guess for a lot of people the thought of their older siblings not beating up on them would be a good thing, but I would’ve been happy with any form of acknowledgement. Now that we are all in or graduated from college, we are a lot closer and they have started to make fun of me, but for the majority of life, it was as though I didn’t exist to them.

Another question I hate answering is about my tattoo. It is on my foot, and in the winter out of view from everyone. In the summer though, it is on full display when I wear sandals. I don’t regret my tattoo at all, but sometimes I wish I had gotten it somewhere less visible because of how many times I get asked what it means, or if it hurt, or where I got it done. The meaning of it is long and personal and not something I can typically summarize in a sentence. Of course it hurt, it is a needle stabbing you repeatedly in the foot. Everyone always has an opinion on tattoos and are readily available to share their opinion whether you want it or not. When I first got it, I loved talking about it to whoever would listen, but now it is just part of my body. It’s like someone asking me about my toenails or a birthmark. The shininess of the tattoo had worn off and talking about it is the last thing I want to do.