Tattoos

A friend of mine recently posted a link on Facebook of a series of photos of tattoos with book quotes and illustrations.  She asked her friends what quote they would get tattooed on themselves if given the chance.

When I was in college, I felt the need to let out a little bit of my inner “bad” girl by getting a tattoo on my lower back.  Many of my friends and sorority sisters were getting tattoos of dragons, fairies, and anchors with yellow roses in tribute to our sorority.  I pondered the idea for well over a year, eventually deciding that I definitely wanted to get some ink. 

My family had always been relatively conservative, but not unreasonably so.  I was most concerned about my father’s reaction, so I “greased the wheels” a little by introducing the idea to my mom first.  She seemed cool with it, saying that it was my body and all that.  I took that as a green light.

One weekend night, my friends and I loaded up my Integra and made the trip to Hot Springs.  This was not the kind of thing you did alone.  You needed friends… and vodka.  Hot Springs had both tattoo parlors and bars, so that sealed the deal.  The journey was about 30 minutes on a two-lane winding country road.  Once I reached the shop of choice, Redbeard’s Living Canvas, I scanned the counter for my favorite design: a butterfly.  Original, right?  If I had it to do over again, I probably would have drawn my own design or picked something of more significance, but all I knew was that I didn't want some Chinese character that we thought meant peace or love, only to find out that afterwards that it meant noodles or criminal.  A butterfly?  That’s pretty low-risk.  I made up some connection to the concept of rebirth or whatever, but the truth is just that I like the symmetry of butterflies.

I chose my favorite colors: purple and blue, and decided on the size.  It was pretty small.  About 1 ½ inches square, right in the middle of my lower back.  Knowing I was going to be a teacher, I didn't want the tattoo to be located anywhere that I couldn't cover up easily.  I had friends that had gotten tattoos on their abdomens, but after having children, their skin had ended up in completely different places, and they had a disfigured Tinkerbell that more closely resembled Victor Hugo’s Hunchback.  Always practical, I decided that the lower back would make more sense because it would “stretch evenly”.

 

I later heard the term “tramp stamp,” which had to be explained to me, and I was momentarily horrified.  That was my early 20’s... college years… which had their wild moments of course, but I was generally a “good” girl, and this decision to head to a tattoo parlor in downtown Hot Springs, baring my backside for a guy that looked like the leader of his local Hell’s Angels gang, and sitting through an hour of incessant stinging, was pushing the boundaries.

After it was all finished, being the rule-follower that I am, I followed all of the directions meticulously, applying that ointment every few hours and keeping it covered in plastic wrap so it wouldn't scab.  That little butterfly made me feel saucy and sly, like I carried around a little secret that no one expected.

A few months later, I kept looking at that little butterfly and thinking… man, it sure is little.  I kept feeling like I wanted more.  I wanted some more “stuff” around it.  I couldn't decide if I wanted a tribal pattern or ivy.  A tribal didn't really make sense with the butterfly, I reasoned, so the ivy won.  I ventured back to see Redbeard again, and this time, we put about 6 inches of ivy on either side of my butterfly. 

If you've never had a tattoo done before, the usual way they do it is by creating a transfer first.  That way, you can see what it will look like once it’s all finished.  I don't know why it didn't occur to me that we were about to put on a HUGE tattoo.  I nodded and said, “Sure!  Looks great!”  Two hours later, my lower back was covered in ivy.  I was shocked!  I hadn't realized that the ivy would make such a difference, but my cute little butterfly was now tucked away into this field of leaves. 

Over the years, I’ve both loved and hated my tattoo.  From time to time, I toy with the idea of getting more, but so far, the rest of my skin is au natural.  My dad – as expected – was moderately horrified, saying that he didn't understand why I would do that to my body.  My clever reply at the time was that now they'd have a way to identify my body if necessary.  My mom found it exciting and even talked about getting her own ink.

In the last 15 years, tattoos have taken on a bit of a different meaning to me, though.  Now I see tattoos as a way to remind me of things: my beliefs, favorite quotes, comments on life, etc.  The tricky thing is deciding on a location.  I never see my tattoos on my lower back, which is ok.  I've thought of getting a wrist tattoo, but I'm not completely sold on that. 

I do, however, know what things I would choose from if I were to get a tattoo.  

First, there's the enso.  I love this symbol.  As Zen Buddhists, the enso is a symbol of the unending cycle of life, enlightenment, strength, elegance, and the universe.  It's beautiful.

My other favorite option is a quote.  Perhaps something like this one, which refers to a great line from Maya Angelou. This quote has served me well over the last few years, so it's pretty powerful for me.

Who knows if I'll ever actually get another tattoo, but it's fun to think about what I'd get if I were to decide to go back for seconds (or thirds?).