Been thinking about a tattoo lately. I don’t have any currently. My body is 100% ink free. In the weirdness that is the city I live in, I am quite literally in the minority.
When I was married my (now ex) husband and I talked about getting tattoos periodically. He had some delusional idea that his arms were muscular enough to sport one of those tribal bands — he seemed to think it would make him look even cooler than he already thought he looked. While I wasn’t super hot on the idea of a tattoo, I figured it would be a nice “couple” thing to do. It seemed to make him happy that I was willing to go along with it.
Lots of my friends had butterflies on their ankles, or flowers in the small of their backs, all cute and feminine, but not exactly what I wanted, because I didn’t know what I wanted or even IF I wanted a tattoo.
Now that I think about it, my ex and I talked about getting tattoos for years, because we first started going into tattoo parlors to “look around for ideas” in San Francisco. We left San Francisco almost 20 years ago. Geez. That’s a hell of a long time to talk about doing something that never gets done.
Now we have an almost 18-year-old who is counting down the days (107) to when he does not need our permission to get a tattoo. He’s been thinking about it and talking about it for the last 2 years. He’s serious. More serious than his father and I ever seemed to be —
While I may have toyed with the idea while I was married, I have been slightly preoccupied for the last year about a tattoo, and getting my bellybutton pierced.
To be honest, the belly button piercing is not a new idea. I had that urge while I was still married. The ex thought it was a great idea. It would be sexy. Something he could tell his friends about, even have me show them. He really liked that idea. I’m sure his liking the idea is what caused me not to do it. That, coupled with how painful I imagined it would be.
But here we are, about 3 years later and I’m pretty sure both will happen by the end of the year.
I am a different person than I was 3 years ago. Quite different. I can be who I want to be without discussing why. Really, that’s not correct. I’m more than willing to discuss why, good conversation is high on my favorites list, but I do not have to feel threatened by the discussion. Those days are over.
As an aside I would like to say that my marriage was dysfunctional. While it lasted a long time, we were very young when we got together and neither one of us knew what the hell we were doing –that being said, while I may sound bitter at times, I still very much believe in marriage and recognize that a healthy marriage would not put me in a place where I would feel threatened in a conversation.
So after going into a multitude of tattoo parlors around my strange and weird city, and perusing what seemed like thousands more websites for the last year, I met with Tanya, the belly dancing tattoo artist, today. Have you ever met a belly dancing tattoo artist? Coolness to the 10th power.
I spent about 30 minutes with her talking about what I wanted, why I wanted it, where I wanted it, how long it would take, how much it would cost, yadda, yadda, yadda. It was pretty awesome and I was happy to leave the deposit and schedule my appointment for October 12th. That will be the day I get a tattoo. For me. Because I want to.
No butterflies, no rainbows, no little flowers. While I like all those things, they are not me. Instead, I will have a very basic, but oh-so-cool, runner chick on my left shoulder-blade, that will be especially visible when I run.
I am excited and only a little sad that it will be 3 days after I run my next marathon. But it is sure to be healed and ready for display when I do the half marathon trail run two weeks later.
In my fantasy world, where I actually have conversations with my ex-husband, I ask him when he thinks he’ll get around to that tribal band around his bicep. “Any day now, I just talked to a tattoo artist last week, he’s drawing up a unique one-of-a-kind design just for me” is what he would say. “Nice,” I’d say as I turned to run away from him, with my tattoo clearly in sight.
That’s right asshole. I quit talking about what I was going to do and started doing it right after I told you I wanted a divorce.
Now, to find some place clean where I can get my bellybutton pierced. I think I’ll ask my belly dancing tattoo artist if she has any suggestions.