And so yesterday I did something that I always said I never would, and got not one, but three tattoos.
Of course, it’s not happened under normal circumstances. And I suppose that they are genuinely functional, rather than merely cosmetic. And they were positioned with x-rays and lasers and stuff – try asking for that down the local tattoo parlour – and they’re small enough that no-one will ever notice them. But still I find myself resenting them.
Which is weird.