The Tattoo

DH had one tattoo. He got it over the summer. It was a tribal sun on his ankle that he showed up with one morning after a night of partying.

It was paid for by a girl he swears he didn't sleep with.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The anger, the sadness, the longing to believe that she was just a friend even when SIL told me that her friend had called asking if she was just a one night stand.

For the entire time we continued to date and were married the only thing that tattoo did for me was disgust me. Every time I saw it there was a rock in the pit of my stomach. And every time I asked DH to consider getting it removed he refused. I guess at that point I should have known where his respect for me was.

I lived for 8 1/2 years with a man who carried a mark of infidelity on his ankle. Something I never got over.