I got my first tattoo in my late forties. It was my daughter’s idea. A talented artist since childhood, she designed an open heart we could share – a mother/daughter special secret. She got hers behind one ear. I, the less brave of the two, got mine in the center of my nape where it was hidden by my hair.
At the time of that first ink session, Dave, the artist assured me this would be the first of many. I wasn’t so certain. Yes, it hurt (a little), and up until that buzzing needle hit my skin, I was still on the fence about putting something so permanent on my body. But I didn’t chicken out. And to my daughter and her friends, I became “the cool mom.”
After a time, I totally forgot I had it. Out of sight, out of mind. In fact, the only time I remembered it was there was when I got my hair cut and whoever shampooed me would mention it. Oh, right. The tattoo. I didn’t even know what it looked like, since I hadn’t seen it since the day I acquired it. That would start me thinking. What’s the point of having something I can’t see or enjoy? I wanted something else. And I knew that it had to represent my passion: romance writing.
Back I went to Dave, who was kind enough to not say “I told you so.” Together, we designed a feather quill pen piercing a heart, and I had it tattooed on my right wrist. I’ve been happy with my two bits of body art for years now. I assumed I was done with the tattoo madness.
Now, though, I want one more–for my other wrist. And I didn’t even realize I wanted it until I spotted an image online that would be the perfect pairing to my quill-in-heart. What is it? Unh-unh. I ain’t telling til it’s done. I’m excited to see the finished product, and I hope to get it done within the next few weeks.
I’d like to say this one will be my last, but I’m old enough and smart enough to know “Never say Never.”
What about you? Got any tats? Thinking of getting one?