“Only sluts get tattoos.” Mom

Honest.  That is what she said to me when I showed her my first tiny, itty, bitty ankle flower.  I hate to think what she would say now.  So this is going to be a tattoo blog. If you are channeling my mother, please leave the site immediately. Honest.

When I told my sister of my first tattoo, she said, “Thank God, now we do not have hear about it anymore.”  This was not a negative comment, actually; it was fact. I had been talking about getting a tattoo since I was a child. When we would have to hand in our Christmas lists, (before Thanksgiving or my mom said she could not promise Santa would get it on time) I would always list: tattoo, right after the yearly request for new coloring book and crayons. I never got the tattoo.

A million years later I got my first, a tiny, and I mean tiny, set of flowers on my hip. Figured if I hated it, it would not show. I did not hate it. I have slowly and not so slowly, collected “ink.” Only the one on my wrist is visible at all times. I have done that on purpose. The one on my shoulder shows a bit with some tops, and when I wear shorts or capris, you can see the ones on my legs.

This is not for the faint of heart or the people who are going to tell me I should not have done it.  Too late. I am already a slut.

The ankle flower turned into an ankle bracelet. The flower that started it was done by Paul Booth, when he was starting out. That is a big deal now. He is like the number one tattoo artist in the US, if not the world. He would be embarrassed with me showing off a flower, since he only does gruesome death like things now, and only in sepia.  Whenever I go and have a tattoo, people are more than impressed that I have a “Paul Booth.”  Google him, go on….you will see.

This is on my wrist. It first was just the vine around, but I had the flowers added later. Remember that Pam? (no more details please….lol)

Hmm, what next?  Well, Ann and I got similar tattoos on our backs. Mine is yellow and orange; Ann’s is purples. I like these, and I wish I could actually see it.

Ah, then on to bigger things. I had an Amy Brown fairy “Fairytude” put on my thigh. I swore then never to have another one done. It was not a pleasant experience, but I went back for more!

Ah, then I began my memorial tattoo. The first part is made up of my mother’s favorite flowers (She would still not approve.), which were Impatience and Fuchsia.  The  “L” and “E” are my parents’ initials in the vines.

Then I thought I should have something to symbolize my step-father, Jack, who was an important part of of our lives for a very long time. He was an amazing man, and I always think of the cottage up north when I think of him. So, I saw a fern tattoo once, and I copied the idea.This is out of order, in case any of you are taking notes for the time you might see my mother on the other side. I just had the fern done last week, so it is not healed yet. I had my shoulder done in between these two, but I wanted to put them together.

I am saying that, after that fern, I am done. It was agony, and I really do not think I want any more. So I say now. Oh, I found an interesting Paul Booth interview from MTV about pain. Just click on the blue “interview” and it will come up.

The shoulder was done in three stages, and I have to say was my least painful area.  I just sat there and did not flinch, not at all like the fern where I contemplated calling 911.

First I had the stars, then the cat, and then I had it made into one piece (to use tattoo jargon) by adding the night sky. Those orange things are leaves not moles, by the way.

I think that is all we took pictures of..minus the little, first one which came out blurry.

So, tattoos are not for everyone. My cousin once gave me a t-shirt that read, ” The difference between tattooed people and non-tattooed people is that tattooed people do not care that you don’t have tattoos.”

Enough said.