Yo-Nenny got her third tattoo a month after her second, when she was sixteen.
It was one of those things … I was hanging out with a friend — I wasn’t close to her — and it just came out of boredom. She gave me the tattoo. I gave her one, too.
There was no reason for me to choose a star except it was kind of innocuous. It was the beginning of my having tattoos that could not be hidden. I started getting “job killers” after that.
How did your friend give you the tattoo? I asked.
With a sewing needle and India ink. There was thread wrapped around the tip of the needle to hold the ink. She punched little holes in me: teeny little dots. I think she did the outline first. I gave her one too, but I don’t even remember what it was. Shows how meaningless it was.
If it was meaningless, why did you do it?
Because I wanted a tattoo on my finger.
Why did you want a tattoo on your finger?
It was my big F. U. I didn’t want to hide my tattoos any more. It’s because I cared about coming across as though I didn’t care.