ra-TATTOO-e

I frequently think about what I would get if I was to get a tattoo. Not that I'm planning on it, mind you, but it's crossed my mind a number of times...especially when my girls discuss what theirs will be. My youngest daughter already has two. She had to wait to get her first on her 18^th birthday, because I was not going to approve her getting one [at all] and she needed my written permission as a minor. She described what she had wanted and I had to admit it sounded kind of cute. A little design that I figured wouldn't be too intrusive and mostly hidden on her body.  But I certainly was not going to be the one to take her and watch some tatted up, drug addicted, Harley riding, strung out, motha frickin’ gang member inflicting pain on my little girl, in some hole in the wall storefront. So she went with her dad, [I think], and some friends and had it done. I expected her to come home with some colorful, playful little piece of art adorning her hip, hidden by her jeans. Boy was I way off target. This thing was gigunda. I mean gi-normous. I mean, if you had to compare it to something, I'd say Texas has nothing over this thing. This tattoo would cover the entire body of a Tyrannosaurus Rex when it was pregnant. And hidden? I think not. It is smack in the middle of her back, between her waist and her shoulder blade, towards the side. So you don't actually see it when she's dressed, but you certainly can't miss it in a bathing suit. It screams out to you...Yoo hoo...here I am. Your eyes are immediately drawn to it and glued on it. Obviously she went in there with one idea in mind and came out with another. Or so I thought. Or so she led me to believe because she knows me oh so well and didn't want me to go into panic mode had I known what she really was going to get…a tattoo the size of an IMAX theater screen.  

The next one she got, she got without telling me beforehand. She just nonchalantly posted it on facebook for all to see. I always check out her pictures on FB and usually can tell what I'm looking at. But this one kept me staring for about 5 minutes. It's like...'What the hell is it? Are there letters? Is it a word? Where is it? Is it some secret code she is sending her friends?' My face was practically up against the screen trying to figure it out. Then it hit me. Another tattoo. Was that on her finger? I immediately called her and she told me, yes, it was indeed a tattoo. It said 'Shine'. I must say...you can't be more positive than that. And it really was cute. And her hands are still the size of a 5 year old so it looks adorable. OMG...I actually like a tattoo. Who have I become? I don't know if I know me anymore. Who woulda thunk?

What I don't understand, is how does anyone willingly allow another person to take a needle and engrave their skin to the point of having a picture permanently embedded? I have never seen it done in person, but just the thought of it creeps me out. I have no problems with needles. I never wince when I get a shot or get blood drawn (actually, the rubber tourniquet they tie around my arm hurts more while it’s squeezing and twisting the shit out of my skin then the needle does), but taking one and drawing on my body for what must seem like eternity, has the same appeal to me as falling down an elevator shaft. How my kids have no problem with it is beyond me. I used to hear about it for days when they were due for shots. I almost had to drug them to get them to the doctor for the millisecond the injection took. But for this...no problem? How does that make sense? I just can't understand lying there, being calm, while someone takes this dentist's drill and chisels out your skin, scarring you for life. Ewww...gives me the willies.

You look at some of these kids with their entire arm or leg covered with tattoos and wonder how they will feel about it when they're 50 or older. I wonder if, when the skin starts sagging, the happy faces will turn into frowns. A ‘d' will turn into a 'q'. And a picture of a naked woman with perky little tits will then have boobs down to her waist. People's tattoos will need plastic surgery.

Ok...so what would I get if I did get a tattoo? Well...I've thought about Tweety. How cute would a teeny tiny Tweety bird look on some part of my body? Adorable, right? Ok...so I am 50 something years old. So I still have this affection for a cartoon character. So what. It's Tweety bird…C'mon.

I thought about my favorite quote..."Don't cry because it's over, Smile because it happened".  But I realize that it would probably wrap around whatever part of my body I have it carved out of, and I don't want to be wearing a permanent belt of letters. So I'll just keep that quote in my head and heart instead.

This could be me but without the crack showing

I could just do my initials. JPBSP...but if I remarry (yet again), I would have to go back to add another letter. No way am I going through that torture twice. So the question would be, do I get the initials, or do I get married again? What a real dilemma that is.

So here’s what I decided. There really is no decision. I was never going to get one. But if I did…this is what it would look like:

I could dress myself in my tattoo…

And no one would notice the saggy skin, boobs, and every other body part drooping under the designs. But hopefully the tattoo would make me look like this:

And if that's the case...Mr. tatted up, drug addicted, Harley riding, strung out, motha frickin’ gang member...here I come!

Tell me...if you were to get a tattoo...what would you get?