It started with a bet and a tattoo.

Basic training had ended, I was officially a Marine. Women only made up nine percent of the Marine Corp, the lowest percentage of all the armed forces. So, during the short interim, before I was sent for my Advanced Training, a fellow Leather Neck bet me that I wouldn’t get a tattoo, my first and only. After a round of the thickest nastiest Irish stouts I’ve ever tasted, I took the bet.

I’d just passed one of the most strenuous periods of my life in Basic. Getting a tattoo would be child’s play.

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