aksiokersa

It's my journal (if you already read the intro about interstitial cystitis, check out today's thoughts underneath the row of pretty pretty stars)
I thought it would be cool to document teh life of a chick who's got the girlie-disease "interstitial cystitis."
A lotta people don't know what I.C. is so here goes: incurable tiny ulcers inside the wall of your bladder make it hard to walk, exercise, eat, drink, fuck, dance, breathe, smell flowers, blah blah blah.
The thing is? I have this disease and i'm still kickin' ass.
And other for-real chicks that have bullshit going on with their bodies can relate.
No matter what our mutherfucking misogynistic doctors, sadistic nurses, well-meaning family members, and uninformed aquaintances say, we are awesome, and we can do a good job of taking care of ourselves, thankyouverymuch.
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My tattoo isn't perfect.

It has been an exercise in zen to come to terms with it.
The placement isn't high enough on my neck, so it always shows, and I had wanted it to be more easily hidden.

Also, it is a symmetrical design, and the left came out a little different than the right.

Sometimes I am utterly humililated by my tattoo.
Other times I love it for its cuteness, despite the imperfections.

(Don't have a camera - sorry guys! It is just an indigo rebel alliance symbol with a little star on each side and the word "true" in the Galactic Basic language arcing over the top. It is on the back of my neck.)