Mel B. Keeps Cut Off Tattoo of Ex-Husband in a Jar

Getting a tattoo of your ex’s name has been long regarded as the pinnacle of idiocy. If you want a surefire plan to guarantee that your relationship will end in a messy and traumatic way, by all means, go forth and have your significant other’s name permanently inked into your skin and get needle-stabbed more times than your grandma’s cross-stitch sampler.

Mel B. learned just how terrible of an idea this sort of tattoo is, and subsequently discovered the pain of tattoo removal. After splitting from her music producer (and allegedly abusive) husband Stephen Belafante this year, Mel B. decided to eliminate his tattooed name from her body. Except Mel B. chose to go about the removal in a less traditional, and quite frankly, the most nausea-inducing way possible.

That’s right, Mel B. actually had her ex-husband’s name sliced out of her own flesh.

Normally, I would say, “Damn, that is fucking hardcore. This guy was so awful that she couldn’t endure the thought of going through fifteen-plus sessions to have that thing lasered off. Just carved that bastard right out of her skin.”

However, if you thought that Mel B. cutting her inked skin out of her body was cringe-worthy enough, don’t worry, this story only gets worse. Mel B. has kept the severed flesh with her ex’s name. To this day, it stays in a jar. In her closet.

Has anyone else vomited yet? Because I puked about three times while writing this.

Here’s what Mel B. had to say about this drastic and revolting move:

“It sounds horrific when you say it like that. What I went through was so horrific and this one particular tattoo that my ex forced me to have was, ‘Stephen until death do us part, you own my heart.'”

“[It was]Just to make myself feel clean and new again. I didn’t want to have any remnant of him on me.”

“I’ve saved it in a jar, which sounds a bit strange, I know.”

Uh, yeah, it sounds horrifying because it is horrifying. Holy F**k, lady. Okay, I get that you don’t want any trace of your ex on your body. Okay? I respect that. Hell, I can even have a modicum of understanding for you carving out a pound of flesh because the thought of spending all that time lasering it off was too much.

But why the f**k, did you keep the severed tissue? You have human remains in your home, as in a real hunk of rotting flesh lurking in your closet. Jesus, there is some serious Chainsaw Massacre s**t going on here.

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