Great news you all: I’m joining the No Tattoo Club! My KISA is the chairman, so naturally I wanted to join.

I decided I was a rebel at the ripe old age of 18 and decided to get a tattoo for my birthday present to myself. Contrary to what my KISA thinks, butterfly tramp stamps were cool in the Midwest when I was 18 (he claims they never were). Since my passion then was to join the Cool Club, that was the membership card. I wanted to make sure people knew how really cool I was and that I could tolerate pain pretty well, so I also got my tongue pierced that night.

Fast forward 12 years later, and I’ve decided that I’m really not cool. Or a tramp. They had a Groupon for $200 that was for 6 treatments to have a tattoo removed. It was time. I told my KISA I was going to join my club and he was LIVID. Oh, not because he doesn’t think my tattoo is the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done. No. It’s because he claims I can’t join the No Tattoo Club. I explained to him that I would no longer have a tattoo and that would therefore qualify me. He says I’d have to start my own club: Former Tattoo Club. I’m going to start a petition. Let me know if you want to sign it.

So, I just had my third treatment on Thursday. They remove the tattoo with a laser. A laser is essentially light of some kind. They make you wear these sunglasses so that the light doesn’t bother your eyes (or theirs as well). You know how when someone welds something they wear a mask so that the sparks don’t bother their eyes? This is no different. And, the pulses of light look like sparks. And, you know they’re strong if this tattoo is on my lower back and I’m facing away from it and can still see it. That might be why it blistered. And then the blister expanded and made a really big blister over all of my tattoo. That proceed to pop right as we got off the BART at the airport on Friday. It literally was like my water broke. The back of my dress was soaked. My KISA had no sympathy for me. It made me want to join the No Tattoo Club even more.