Tattoos
As a little girl, I can remember getting the play tattoos in the Crackerjacks box & other places. I always loved putting tattoos on my body, but I didn't actually know anyone who had one. As I grew older, I thought tattoos were extremely sexy. I remember the moment I decided I had to get one. I was watching Mtv and the Billy Idol video for 'Dancing With Myself". When he rubbed his hand over his arm & tattoo, I was done. It was only a matter of locating a tattoo parlor (which was no easy task for a quiet girl such as myself). I also did not dare tell anyone that I wanted a tat. It was the late 80s & they weren't yet a fad. I had the perfect place. The back of my left shoulder where I would get something small. I did not want a butterfly. I had a necklace of an ankh that I bought in New Hope. I thought that would be appropriate with a black rose wrapped around it. I wanted to get it done before senior prom and only divulged my secret longing to my friend, Renee. We ended up at prom in our bare skin, but less than a year later we were both inked.
I encountered my first tattoo parlor the night I became a woman. I think I was more excited about telling Renee about the tattoo place, than that I had made a very stupid mistake. We ended up popping our tat cherries less than six months later on the same night, but not with the same tattoos. She got a bat & moon on her chest and I got my ankh w/a red rose on my back left shoulder. (Gil convinced me not to get a black rose. He made it red & promised to change it for free if I didn't like it.) Our two friends, Sik Mik & Piggy, went with us which ended up being torture rather than comfort. They convinced us it was going to be pure pain and hell. They convinced Gil to have us in raunchy positions while we were worked on. I had to straddle a chair (in a skirt) and Renee had more than ample chest exposed. (Six months later, Renee & went back for more tats. She had a brand new one & I had an add-on to mine. I believe it was just the girls that night. Gil didn't make me straddle the chair even though the additional ink was larger than the original tat. Men are pigs.)
After that I ended up getting two more tats. I don't remember when I finally told my parents. I often taunted my mom by telling her I had a tattoo on my inner thigh of an arrow with the words 'enter here'. That's what she got for calling me a whore, slut, & c*nt when I was a good girl. When I finally showed her my real tattoo, she was angry with me and gave me the silent treatment for several days. She admitted that she always wanted a daisy on her hip. I offered to take her, but she replied that she was too old. (My sister ended up getting the daisy.) Eventually, I took my dad to get his first tat which was a copy of a Frazetta piece called Lady Derringer (I believe) that he had Joe Leonard recreate so that the female was nude.
I was the first tattooed girl that people knew in college. I cut all of my t-shirts (or stretched them out) so that my tattoo would be exposed. I remember guys I barely knew caressing my tat on my back. I stopped exposing it and would make up cheezy pick up lines like, " I have a tattoo, but you have to find it." I never actually used that line. (Okay, maybe once on a late night.) I was an elementary education major and we actually had a show & tell of my tattoos (all three) in my teaching of social studies for the elementary school teacher in my junior year. That was the early nineties.
My last tats were by hand and needle in the cancer center. It was funny because all the nurses kept making a big deal out of my tattoos. They remarked their astonishment that I didn't even flinch at the needles going in my skin. Now I have several little blue love dots (as I call them) that look like freckles in a grid formation. I was going to get them covered up until I read that I need to keep them as markers in case my cancer comes back in the same breast. The radiation remained in my flesh and they would not be able to radiate the same area if another tumor formed.
I love all my tats & don't regret a single one. In fact, I think this is the year I get another one. I just haven't decided upon the design. I'm looking forward to the day I take my son to get his first one. Maybe I can convince my mom to get her first one and then I will have corrupted my whole family.
I encountered my first tattoo parlor the night I became a woman. I think I was more excited about telling Renee about the tattoo place, than that I had made a very stupid mistake. We ended up popping our tat cherries less than six months later on the same night, but not with the same tattoos. She got a bat & moon on her chest and I got my ankh w/a red rose on my back left shoulder. (Gil convinced me not to get a black rose. He made it red & promised to change it for free if I didn't like it.) Our two friends, Sik Mik & Piggy, went with us which ended up being torture rather than comfort. They convinced us it was going to be pure pain and hell. They convinced Gil to have us in raunchy positions while we were worked on. I had to straddle a chair (in a skirt) and Renee had more than ample chest exposed. (Six months later, Renee & went back for more tats. She had a brand new one & I had an add-on to mine. I believe it was just the girls that night. Gil didn't make me straddle the chair even though the additional ink was larger than the original tat. Men are pigs.)
After that I ended up getting two more tats. I don't remember when I finally told my parents. I often taunted my mom by telling her I had a tattoo on my inner thigh of an arrow with the words 'enter here'. That's what she got for calling me a whore, slut, & c*nt when I was a good girl. When I finally showed her my real tattoo, she was angry with me and gave me the silent treatment for several days. She admitted that she always wanted a daisy on her hip. I offered to take her, but she replied that she was too old. (My sister ended up getting the daisy.) Eventually, I took my dad to get his first tat which was a copy of a Frazetta piece called Lady Derringer (I believe) that he had Joe Leonard recreate so that the female was nude.
I was the first tattooed girl that people knew in college. I cut all of my t-shirts (or stretched them out) so that my tattoo would be exposed. I remember guys I barely knew caressing my tat on my back. I stopped exposing it and would make up cheezy pick up lines like, " I have a tattoo, but you have to find it." I never actually used that line. (Okay, maybe once on a late night.) I was an elementary education major and we actually had a show & tell of my tattoos (all three) in my teaching of social studies for the elementary school teacher in my junior year. That was the early nineties.
My last tats were by hand and needle in the cancer center. It was funny because all the nurses kept making a big deal out of my tattoos. They remarked their astonishment that I didn't even flinch at the needles going in my skin. Now I have several little blue love dots (as I call them) that look like freckles in a grid formation. I was going to get them covered up until I read that I need to keep them as markers in case my cancer comes back in the same breast. The radiation remained in my flesh and they would not be able to radiate the same area if another tumor formed.
I love all my tats & don't regret a single one. In fact, I think this is the year I get another one. I just haven't decided upon the design. I'm looking forward to the day I take my son to get his first one. Maybe I can convince my mom to get her first one and then I will have corrupted my whole family.
posted by Shana at 10:15 PM
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