In God We (Don’t) Trust
This couple at my gym have identical tattoos that read, “In God I Trust.”
Well, I say the girl doesn’t. She’s got a smokin’ hot bod and her boyfriend would kick my ass to a pulp up and down the Boulevard if he knew that I want to pound her rump while wearing a Jesus mask and clown shoes.
As you can see, the boobs are as fake as the day is long. Nice.
God is perfect, and he has a plan for each of us. A perfect plan. He made us in his image and each of us was born EXACTLY THE WAY HE WANTED US.
Her tattoo proclaims her unqualified and absolute trust in god. It is perfectly clear and explicit. There are no disclaimers or provisos.
So why the imitation bazookas?
God made you with something smaller or not quite as firm. The Big Bad Titty-Making Sky Daddy is perfect, all-knowing, all-loving, and that was his plan for you. If what the almighty gave you was good enough for him, then it’s good enough for you.
Trust? Mmm, not so much.
Freewill’s a bitch, eh? So you have two options. Either exercise your freedom to choose and get saline chest balloons, or go with blind trust and possibly end up with tiny or saggy bra meat. Decide. But it ain’t gonna be pretty either way you go with it.
I think her tattoo should read, “God shook my trust when he gave me lousy tits. I think I’m on my own.”
If you’re wondering how I get these pictures, I just ask. People who enjoy tattoos are generally proud of their ink and are more than happy to answer any questions you have about them. My standard foray into the picture is to say, “I’m a writer [true] and I’m writing a piece about religious tattoos [true]. I’m fascinated by yours [true] and would like to include it in my work [true].” Trust me, they’ll jump at the offer. Now get out there and start photographing these inked hypocrites!
And for the record, know that The Bastard has no problem at all with real tatts or fake tits. My wife has one small discreet ink adornment and two very nice store-bought chest enhancements.