I am not a lover of body art.
I'm not a hater of body art.
Tattoos.
Sometimes I like them on other people.
Sometimes I think they are ugly.
For me, the idea of getting tattooed is unth-INK-able.
When my daughter Kerry and I were visiting my sister
in Alaska, I knew the idea of tattoos was bound
to come up. My nieces all have tattoos and Kerry
has been wanting to get one for a few years now.
When my sister and I got home one afternoon and
the girls asked my opinion of a certain design for a
tattoo, I wasn't surprised. And I really didn't like
the design either.
Kerry and my nieces wanted to all get the same tattoo
as a symbol of their close bond.
Nice sentiment, but why not just buy the same necklace
or something instead of permanently marring your
body?
Nonetheless, on the final day of our visit, we headed
into Anchorage to do some shopping and for them
to get inked.
Even my sister had decided to get a tattoo (her first one) - not the same one as the girls,
but one that had a special meaning to her.
The order for the proceedings : Lori, Kerry, Mikey, Hali, and Emily.
It wasn't even Kerry's turn and she had begun to sweat!
Lori sat in the chair to get her tattoo done on her back.
She was very still with her eyes closed the entire time.
On that day, tattooing was a spectator sport! Friend came to watch!
Lori had chosen a father/daughter celtic knot symbolizing the
never-ending bond between father and daughter, but also taking
into account the Irish heritage of my mother.
Kerry was up next.
She chose to get her tattoo on her side, so she had to lay down on the table.
At first she appeared to be relaxed about it.
Then her expression became...
more and more
pained.
She tried to joke around, but it didn't last long.
Her hand began to grip the side of the table more tightly.
When it was over, she admitted if it had taken much longer
she would have been crying. It hurt much more than she imagined.
But it was finished. A compass!
She was officially a bad-ass!
Mikey was next in line.
She was a veteran, though.
Same tattoo. Same place.
And touch-ups on others that had faded.
Hali got the same design on her arm.
As did Emily...
Later that night at dinner I was asked if I was mad that Kerry
got a tattoo.
I had already thought about this during the hours I spent watching and
taking pictures of the process, so while my answer was quick it was
made with much consideration.
I was not mad at all.
The emotion I felt was sadness.
As she was laying on the table in pain, I was picturing my beautiful
little baby girl with soft, flawless skin.
I was remembering all of the boo-boos she had gotten as a child,
and how I painstakingly tended her wounds, hoping there would
not be a scar.
For me, it was the same as I feel when a beautiful stone wall is
marred by a graffiti artist.
I don't think it was the answer they expected - or wanted.
But it wasn't about me.
Kerry is an adult and can make her own choices.
Not everything she chooses is the same as what I would choose.
Nor should it be.
She didn't make this decision hastily.
I'm sure getting this tattoo satisfied some kind of need or
desire in her.
If it makes her happy - I am happy that she's happy.
But as a mom, it still makes me sad.
