Cowardly, but SO cute

I didn't send the letter to Baby Momma.

I knew that I wouldn't.

Though it was kinda fun to pretend that maybe I might consider that I would.

Bf talked me out of it - well, in the way that guys will make out that their buddy is holding them back from kicking your ass, and you're so lucky he's holding me back cuz I would kick your ass, if only he weren't holding me back, that kind of thing.

He asked me to please not arm her with such awesome ammunition to use against us in court, but instead just keep stockpiling all the things that she sends me. And though I felt a sickening amount of frustration that once again, she gets to hurt me without any fucking consequences, I can admit that I also felt an insane amount of relief. I want to defend myself, of course I do, but i really don't want to invite even more abuse upon myself.

I have been getting a lot of support on the Do Not Reply side:

Dad: Ignore her. Who wants to argue with a five year old?

Mum: Don't stoop to her level. Rise above this.

Sponsor: She sounds like a spoiled teenager having a temper tantrum. That letter is just so, so rude.

Joshie, God bless her, was the only one who supported the sending of my response letter to Baby Momma. She was the only one who agreed that I should stand up for myself.

Joshie: Hey I just read your letter. Send it! Send it! She can't just get away with this.

Ah, Joshie. You are such a good friend ;)

And actually, there was one other person whose reaction was along the same lie as Joshie's, but which came out of nowhere and shocked me with it's ferocity - my new sister-in-law, K:

K: O wow...i swear to god if i ever know who that bitch is and she crosses me paths with me i will fucking kill her.

Tee hee! I LOVE my new sister!

Everyone else is telling me to rise above, that I am better than that, etc, etc, which is incredibly unsatisfying. Personally, all I really hope is that when Bf and Baby Momma go to court in April to fight for custody, that all my months of suffering from her acid tongue and endless rage and abuse will all have been worth it, that her actions will FINALLY have some consequences, and it will be her own actions in the end that lose her custody of her daughter.

If it doesn't, I can always send her all the draft letters that I have written but never sent every time she verbally attacked. Maybe then our rage could be on an equal playing field, even for just a few minutes.

Moving on. As you can see, I went and got my tattoo fixed up today. I hadn't heard from Y, the tattoo artist, in the three weeks since I first got my nin tattoo done, even though I paid a deposit to get him started on the next one. He had promised to email me with some sketches within a week, and yesterday I decided that I was sufficiently pissed off, and called the shop.

"Hey Y, it's Kg," I said when he answered the phone. "Just wondering what was happening with my Black Dahlia sketches?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, somewhat evasively. "Um, yeah, they're done."

Then why didn't you call me two weeks ago? I wondered silently.

Before I could say anything, he piped up again. "I just have to finish the banner."

What banner? I fumed. There WAS no banner!

I asked him if I could come in and see it the following day, and if we could also fix up the nin tat. As usual, he didn't have a single appointment booked, so we agreed that I would just call ahead, and come in any time I wanted.

I don't mean to be so snotty about him. He is a really good artist, and as he is just starting out and is new to the City, he doesn't have a lot of clients yet. But it frustrates me that here I am, throwing money at him and begging him to do some work for me, and then I have to chase him and pin him down just to see the sketches.

I ended up having a nap this afternoon before going in to the shop, and it ran a bit late. I Emla'd my arm as usual, but because I had so little time to get to IC, it didn't work. I had to do my first full tattoo sans numbing agent. Bf asked me after if I felt more like I had earned it this time.

"Fuck no!" I replied.

When I got to the shop, I showed Y what I wanted to do to finish my nin tat. Just before he set up his stuff, he went and grabbed the sketches he had done for my Black Dahlia tattoo.

I hate to say it, but I was so disappointed. It seemed pretty obvious to me that the drawings had been done in a rush. He had incorporated only half the things I had asked him to, skipping on out what I felt where the most important elements. The two women were also very cartooney, which is exactly what I told him I didn't want. I have been trying for so long to get this fucking tattoo! When I saw Y's portfolio three weeks ago, I thought that we might have a winner, but alas, we have not. Though his art work is beautiful, he didn't listen to what I wanted.

I tried to hide my disappointment, though, and told him that the sketches were very good, there were just a few things we needed to change.

"Ok," he said. "We can talk about it after. I'll just set up for today's tattoo."

I had decided to add some text to my wrist tat, so while Y was getting ready I googled the With Teeth album to get the exact font. Y came over to help me print it up exactly as it was on the album.

I needed to tell him that I wanted to use the deposit I had paid for the Black Dahlia on my nin tat instead, but I was so worried about hurting his feelings, even though he had simply ignored what I asked for in the first place. I finally worked up the courage to ask just before we got started.

"So, is it okay if I use my deposit to pay for today's work?" I asked tentatively. "I am really short on cash right now, I am going to have wait to do my Black Dahlia."

To my immense relief, he agreed that I could.

It really sucked, not having my arm completely numbed out like usual. For my first ever tattoo, which I got maybe 6-8 months ago, I had Emla'd a small area on my wrist, but ending up using half my forearm, so I felt most of that tattoo being carved in to my arm. I felt ALL of this one, though. It also swelled quite badly after - when I took the bandage off later that night, my arm was bumpy with ridges, rising where the slashes had swollen, then dipping down again between the slashes, where my skin had been left untouched. I think it may be because it has only been three weeks since I got the first slashes done - maybe because it didn't get a lot of time to heal, it was extra sensitive to more needles.

When Y was finally done and I got to see the finished result, I was SO glad I had sucked it up and done it right away. I am so much happier with it now - before, it had been so lightly drawn it had faded so much that it just looked like I had drawn them on with a Sharpie. Now, the black is filled in completely, and the surrounding red and the writing on my wrist make it look like an actual tattoo.

We went to the front desk when we were done, so I could pay the balance remaining after my deposit. While I was rifling through my purse, we discussed the Black Dahlia sketches, and I confessed to him that they were too cartooney, that I was looking for something more realistic, more portraity. He then suggested that I might want to check out Peace's work, the owner of the shop, who had been tattooing a very tattooed man at the station beside me. I agreed with relief that maybe I should check out his portfolio, though I also suggested that i could email Y with more pictures of what exactly I wanted. I left with the whole thing kinda open-ended, which suited me perfectly.

A few hours after I got home tonight, I perused Peace's portfolio, and decided that I definitely wanted to go with him. I am going to leave it for a few weeks - which, since I am running out of cash, I kinda have to do anyway - and then I am going to ask Peace to sketch up my Black Dahlia.

When I got home from the tattoo parlor, Bf was sitting on the couch in his jacket, looking something up on the computer. For whatever reason things have been a little cold between us the past few days, and tonight was no exception. I think it may be coming mostly from me, as right now, every little thing I hear about Baby Momma gets my hackles up.

When I got home tonight, we just sat in our chairs on opposite sides of the room, barely speaking. We would each try to start a conversation, and it would last for two or three sentences, before we would fade back into an awkward silence. Finally, I had had enough, and stormed ut of the living room and into the kitchen, where I started banging dishes around as I tidied up.

Bf appeared behind me just as a tear escaped and slid down my face. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me at the sink. I leaned back against his chest, and rested my head on his shoulder.

"Why are you crying?" he asked as he turned me around to face him.

"I don't know," I said miserably, hating how whiny and girl-like I sounded. "I just feel like you're mad at me or something."

"Why would I be mad at you?" he asked.

"I don't know," I sighed.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he echoed.

"Do you want to hang out with me?" I blurted out.

"Yes," he said. "Do you want to hang out with me?"

"Yes!" I cried, frustrated.

We stared at each other for a moment, then Bf offered me his hand. I turned off the tap and let him lead me out of the kitchen and back to the living room.

We decided we would go out for dinner. Gradually the tension eased up throughout the evening, and by the time we got back home, we were back in out regular groove, talking and laughing and cuddling up to watch t.v. together. He oohed and aahed over my fixed tattoo, and I gave him a back massage, and when we went to bed, we were finally reconnected again.

Must be the power of the nin tattoo.