Last Saturday, I had a large Steemit tattoo etched in my leg. I did this to commemorate the decision to not hide my secret life any longer. My fans only know the Barry Cooper of NeverGetBusted and KopBusters. Little else has been told about my life because I hid my stories and for a good reason. My stories hurt.

My stories are also a bit ridiculous because it would seem a mastermind was behind all of them. I am not that smart so don't credit me with the true stories I am going to unfold on Steemit. I never saw my life as worthy of being re-told. For me, I was just living and being as sincere as I could in whatever I did.

It feels good when I see my new Steemit tattoo because it reminds me of the decision I made to be transparent about my life. I cannot wait to tell you why I really hated marijuana and launched my own war on the plant. How my first wife of fifteen years wore a body wire for the DEA to try and bust me for something I never did. How my best friend and brother-in-law that I met in high school and graduated the police academy with, later raided my house. During the raid, he left bruises on my eight-year old daughter and deep scars on my heart.

How my pastor and father figure groomed me into a Christian preacher of six years then betrayed me by making a move on my wife and pretended to "hear from God" in an attempt to control me. Why my latest wife of eleven years left me over a year ago and returned to the United States. For the record, I have been married three times and I dearly loved all of my wives...and still do.

I am excited and relieved I no longer have to hold these hurts any longer. I can release them to you and hopefully you will find a healing or a laugh or something within the madness of it all. When you hear the tales, understand I am not complaining, I am only explaining. Although dreadfully painful at times, my life has been extraordinary and filled with love, fun, rewards and happiness. I never saw my life as being sad and I still don't.

I cannot think of a better way to start being transparent with you than to share the intimate meanings of my tattoos. When meeting me, the first thing a person should notice is my smile and that I am heavily inked...everywhere. I even have one "there" and although it's hilarious, I am not sure it's tasteful for me to share it here.

The first tattoo I got at age twenty-five represents one of the most embarrassing times of my life. The tat is weird montage of a Texas flag, a badge, a K9 paw, a cross and the Star of David. I received the mistake while wearing my police uniform when I was a narcotics investigator in Gladewater, Texas. The tattoo was given to me by a member of the Ku Klux Klan. I was never a member of the hate group but regretfully and embarrassingly I aligned myself with their philosophies. I was a racist.

OUCH. That hurt to say. Can I beg my audience for forgiveness of my past racism? I promise I have changed.

Any person who knows me will testify that I have none of that crap left in me. In fact, my blonde haired, blue-eyed daughter and best friend is married to a black man. Leandrew is a genius and he is also my best friend. They both live a few miles from me and are my partners and the web masters of NeverGetBusted. During your journey with me, you will learn that I am really close to my children and their families.

I was a hardcore racist during high school and the first few years of being a cop. I became a racist because of the sick culture and teachings that came with living in the deep woods of E. Texas. I graduated from one of the few remaining all-white public schools. The atmosphere of my culture was so poisoned, I actually believed black people were not really humans. I always felt being prejudice was wrong but I was too heavily influenced by the old white men who controlled everything.

I remember after receiving my first tattoo, the pastor I mentioned above "led me to the Lord" and I was "saved." One of the first things I had to settle with God was, "If you are so loving, why are black people not allowed in heaven." This issue was almost a deal killer for me in terms of dedicating my life to Christianity. I was so relieved when my pastor explained black people had souls and could go to heaven.

This news was especially endearing to me because I always secretly had black friends and admired their uniqueness. I was elated to learn black people would join me in heaven and God loved them just as much as He did me. You may know from reading my previous chapters that I am an ultra-sensitive person.

Hypocrisy has never stopped causing my brain and heart to swirl in an uproar of confusion and disillusionment. You can understand why I was incredibly hurt and disappointed when my pastor wouldn't stop using the "N word" when referring to black people. It made me sick.

After my conversion, I understandably hated the tattoo on my left shoulder. I quickly had it covered with a image of a lion wearing a crown of thorns and a nail hole in his paw. Because I am not proud of either the original tattoo or the cover-up, I tried to have it removed but it won't leave. It only fades. I plan to cover the entire mess very soon with something positive and pretty. I'm going to cover it with a beautiful rose.

A big shout out to three artist at my second home, the Aztlan Tattoo shop in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico:

Saul did the Steemit tattoo.
Gogo Santana was one of my first friends here and has also stamped me a few times.
Karyn And Rafael are the owners. Rafael recently inked a large piece on my back.

In the second part of, "The intimate details of my heavily inked body" I will show you my back piece and tell you the story of my largest tattoo pictured below. I may also tell you what is tattooed "there."

Keep following and be sure to leave me your thoughts. I read each comment and usually reply. Your support encourages me to continue moving forward with the decision I made as commemorated by the new Steemit logo stamped on my leg.