We grow from struggle - especially us pretentious brooding artist types - and I know this. But the getting there part is like running uphill while being chased by a shark. Well, a shark on legs. A leg shark. Those exist, I'm telling you. Don't climb any hills.

I'm happy to be coming out the other side of a rather prolonged period of shit shifts. And to commemorate the changes that have happened inside of me because of everything going on outside of me, I decided I needed a tattoo.

Like, yesterday morning.

So I went and got one in the afternoon; you know, in between dishes and groceries. Just a typical day as a suburban mom. Scrub a pan, get inked, buy a watermelon.

Oh, don't get your boxers bunched. I've been thinking about my second inking for a while now. If you've been reading me for a little bit, you know I got a tattoo in October 2012 that meant the world to me. I've been wanting to go back and get another ever since, but I take the whole "permanently etched on your pasty white skin" stuff pretty seriously. It had to mean something.

Anyway, I absolutely love it.




But the greatest thing about having a tattoo where everyone can see it? It makes everything I do significantly more badass.

No, really. Observe:

Leaning on a fencepost? Probably tired from a long night of delinquencies. BADASS.

Pretending to drive a car so you can take a picture? No longer really lame. This could be a getaway car. You just don't know. BADASS.

Fuck this tablecloth. When I set the cup back down it's not going on the coaster. Rollin' and trollin', motherfuckers.

What? Another selfie? Hell, no. This is a statement. You might be initially wooed into a false sense of security by the choice of stylish clothing. But all I need to do is flash my left wrist at you for a second and you'll be all like, "Watch out for that chick. She breathes and shines." Stand back, bitches.

I'm not just giving my kid a thumbs up. I'm giving him a lifestyle.

Is this a woman glueing buttons on a painting? (Don't ask. I have a plan.) Hell no, bitches. This is a rebel artist creating outside-of-the-box art. She doesn't care if you get it. She doesn't even care if you like it. Go ahead and question her shit. She's not your corpo-sheep. Stand back and let her work, motherfuckers.

See? Totally badass. Drive-68-in-a-60 badass. Pay-for-13-items-in-a-1-to-12-express-lane badass. Take-more-than-1-complimentary-mint badass.

I'm a whole new Maven. I also think I may be having a midlife crisis.

I knew I wanted "Breathe." on there to remind me to, well, breathe. Duh. You probably figured that out, right?

This anxious girl does better after a few deep breaths. I get a little less wall-head slammy. I act a little less like a triple-layer douche cake. Basically, I'm just a better person after receiving a larger supply of oxygen.

And "Now, shine?" Sometimes I forget that I'm a pretty great person. And when I lose my confidence, I kind of suck at being awesome. I forget I have qualities and a personality and I go hide in a corner. And nobody puts Maven in a corner. Not even Maven.

So now I have life instructions on my wrist: Calm down. Be awesome. You know, the important stuff.

We all have the capacity to shine. Sometimes we just have to remind ourselves that we do.

Motherfucker.