Sardine Cans and Tattoos

When you are seventeen the military requires your parents to sign a waiver for you to enlist. My parents couldn’t wait. I took the test, the one that let’s the army know what you are qualified to do, mine was off the charts. I could have done anything, my young dumb, gunho ass signed up for infantry. Off to Fort Benning for basic in the middle of summer after my junior year of high school. Hot, humid and bugs as big as my forearm. At that time there was the first desert storm war in Iraq and the army still had a bit of a problem with racial tension. My platoon was split up pretty even between the white and the colored, with a few of us considered other.

I had qualified for the Olympic trials in Vegas earlier that year, living in the mountains of Colorado. Needless to say I was in pretty good shape and at the lower altitude of Georgia it was a bit difficult for me to get winded. Every night after hours the platoon would move the bunks and the two sides would fight. I would watch at first, not really fitting into either camp but after a couple of weeks I got bored. Seventeen, full of testosterone and beyond physically fit I decided to jump in. I did not ever pick a side. I simply would jump in whenever there seemed to be a dominant winner that evening. I never lost. I never wore out.

What the hell does this have to do with a sardine can? I have no idea what the protocol is these days but back in the early 1990s they transported us in cattle cars. One of my most vivid memories was day after day we were loaded into cattle cars, packed in like sardines and transported from base to field training and back to the base. Standing room only. Hoping that the guys around you were able to keep their balance and not fall over taking you down with them. A random. Thought on my past. A little bit about me though.

Tattoos, hold onto your ass because I write like a drunk man drives. Why do I jump to tattoos? As earlier blog I eluded that my wife and I are far from vanilla. We both have multiple tattoos. Many from before we met but as we began our relationship we got our first matching tattoos. On the right side of our necks. An infinity sign that ends in the words love. Once I get a knack for this blogging thing I may start posting some pictures. Maybe not. Time will tell. Nonetheless that was our first tattoo together. You see we are pretty inseparable. So again why tattoos? This past week we decided to get our second matching tattoos. Another infinity sign this time intertwined with a heart. Significance? Our last name is Hartt. Cheesy? Maybe. We wear. Matching outfits, have gotten matching haircuts. It’s just us. So we went and got these new tattoos, yeah they turned out damned nice and yeah they are on our bodies in an area that requires us to show them off as they are not in what would be considered a socially acceptable area. As I stated earlier, we are not exactly vanilla. We have a few others matching we will add in the future and a few others that aren’t matching but hell that was last weeks fun for us.

Naked tanning. Jump around blogger, keep people guessing and reading. Not really. This is our lives together. A little known fact about us both is that we were both adopted. Yup mistakes and throw away kids. I don’t play the victim and I don’t care. Life is what you make it and mind is pretty damned good. Back to the tanning, I grew up and eventually learned about my birth mother, never will I give her credit beyond not aborting me but at the age of thirty I did find dear old sperm donor. Interesting enough I have come to patronize the local clothing optional hot springs. It was and is one of the most relaxing places around. Back to the sperm donor, we started writing letters back and forth, yup before email and the internet were much of a thing. Turns out dear old dad fancied himself a nudist. Genetic? I doubt it. Fast forward a bit. I meet my future wife, we hit it off at work and I explained that I could go with or without clothes. Lucky me, she was of a similar mindset. Fast forward to this weekend. A beautiful day, which there have not been many in the recent months, a day off together and a bit of coconut rum. Not even remotely our first backyard tanning session and not even close to our first time tanning naked in our own backyard but it was beyond peaceful and relaxing.

Ah hell, I guess next time I might actually talk a bit about my keto and BFR experience or perhaps another story about myself and how I became who I am today. I will keep you guessing.



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