I got my first tattoo when I was 18. I was a freshman in college and enjoying every minute of my freedom. I had always been such a nerd in the classroom, maybe I felt the need to exhibit push-the-limit behavior in some realm of my life. I went to Artistic Skin Design with two new friends that lived on my dorm floor. The tattoo was high on the innocence scale: a poison arrow frog. I never had a frog as a pet mind you, but I do remember my mom affectionately calling me “Lil’ Frog,” so I figured at least when I broke the news to her that her youngest had defaced her body, she could find it somewhat endearing. When I finally revealed it to her, Mom said when she thought of tattoos, she thought of skulls and crossbones, but this one was cute. I had an acceptable tattoo. Later in life, I felt like the frog was just hanging out in space, so I had an artist create him a swirly-tree home. Â
During that first experience, I remember a sign hanging in the shop. It read, “There are two kinds of people: Those with tattoos and those without.” I found that so profound. I had just left one of those groups and joined the other, for forever. Â
My second tattoo came after my second divorce. Somehow, the pain of a tattoo just makes you feel better, and my ex despised them, so that helped the cause as well. I was at a tattoo party reuniting with friends from high school. I had the names of my three unconditional loves placed right where I could see them. It helped remind me why I kept to the grind every.single.day.
Tattoo #3 was scheduled at Irish Ink with a friend who was getting a rib tattoo filled in. The artist had a tattooed skull, so I’m pretty sure he was oblivious to the concept of pain. To sum up this night, my friend and I had to drive around downtown Indy the following afternoon to look for her car. To say the least, I believe I was still working through some things at the time. The image I had etched on my back was one I could not stop doodling. It means Source Energy flowing to me and through me, so at least that’s pretty cool. I remember needing help with the post-tattoo salve on this one. I hadn’t considered being single when I placed it where I couldn’t reach. Â
At this point in time, there was a break in my tats. I got happy and then hit another valley on the road of life, but was broke, so I couldn’t work through my feels with anything that cost money. And that brings us to 2020. I was happy again on a family vacation. My oldest was 18 and ready for his first tattoo. I couldn’t let him do that alone! What I didn’t know then was that I was getting the first piece of my future arm sleeve.Â
I don’t exactly know when I decided my arm should be covered in ink. It was more of a gradual decision than definitive. Or maybe I didn’t really decide anything and it just happened over time. My arm began acting as a passport stamp book. In Houston, I got the palm tree tattoo that I always wanted and in Florida, I received my “Moonbeam” tattoo, only in Spanish (Rayo de Luna) because why not? I received my “Om” or “Breathe” tattoo In Austin and in Mexico, my horoscope sign of Cancer (which teenage boys will forever think means 69.) Back home here in Indiana, I have sat back down in the ink chair for moon phases, a meditating crab, a meditating person, a paintbrush, a book, my Zoey’s pawprint, random Picasso designs, a heart on my sleeve, and that one mom never wanted me to get – the decorated skull in honor of Dia de los Muertos.
With Quality Time as my love language, getting a tattoo became a more fun date than going out to eat. Food is tasty, but I simply don’t get as much longevity for my buck. Tattooed people often say once you get one tat, you always feel the itch to get another, and I have to say that’s true for me. I relate it to the adrenaline of getting off a roller coaster and hopping right back in line to ride it again. There’s always the question posing when I’m old and wrinkled, will I regret my tattoos. I believe that my soul is infinite, and in the meantime, I am just enduring permanent ink on a non-permanent body. Let’s not take everything so seriously. People talk about which one hurt in which spot the most; I’ve come to realize our bodies have so many nerve endings in so many different spots, the pain is always relative – though if someone has ink on their elbow, I’m vouching that they are a Bad Ass Mother Fucker and probably shouldn’t be prompted towards anger. Â
In my head, the opinion of my arm seems to vacillate between sexy and trashy, with indifference probably being the case most of the time. (Except Mom was not indifferent when she noticed the skeleton head last week- there was definite disapproval in her tone but it prompted this blog post so there’s always good to be found, even in dissidence.) I heard that in Japan, if you have tattoos, you are considered to be in a gang and will not be allowed to go into certain establishments. That’s okay. My travel destinations are warm beaches where I have a chance to hear the beautiful language of Spanish. Â
I read a book on the history of tattoos, trying to wrap my head around the psyche of tattooed folks like myself. Besides sailors, it seems the history on inked people is still being formed. In my lifetime there’s been a pendulum swing on tats, like smoking. They were cool and then not cool and started being cool again (I hope). 4 of the 6 people under my roof now don tattoos, with the percentage of people old enough to have tattoos being 100%. It’ll be interesting to see if the way to show individuality in my family will be to not get a tattoo. Â
I know for sure that tattoos are conversation starters. If you ask anyone about their visible tattoo, it’s only a matter of time before you start seeing the covered parts of their body revealed in conversation to show other tattoos. This past week, I painted at the house of a tattoo shop owner and his wife. The wife said she had an entire leg “sleeve.” I immediately started pondering the name-sake of that anomaly. The same lady also admitted to playing board games with her friends and called herself a Nerd. I assured her that I too, am a self-proclaimed Nerd, but we are tattooed Nerds, so- the cool kind.Â
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