Every Tattoo Tells a Story

I remember when I first decided to get a tattoo. A real tattoo. It was New Year's Eve 1996. I worked at a place where you had to go into work on New Year's Eve but you got to leave early. Some co-workers of mine were planning on grabbing an early drink before heading to various parties. I figured the place they were going was on the way to the 'el' so I tagged along. Well one pitcher of beer led to a few more and before I knew it, it was 8pm and they were planning on hitting another bar. I was out of money but wanted to wait until 9 when the CTA offered penny rides home. One of the women I worked with stopped for a bathroom break and brought us all temporary tattoos that you could buy from a vending machine in the ladies room. She had chosen a tiger for me, since I had gone to the University of Missouri. I placed the tiger on the upper portion of my left breast. I thought it looked good at the time, but again, my judgement might have been a little off. 9:00 came and I hopped on the 'el' with balloons tied to my head, and the tiger still on my chest.

The next day I took a shower and as I looked at the temporary tattoo before I washed it off I thought it looked good. I decided not to wash it off and to live with it for a few days to see if this was something I really wanted. When it finally started to peel about 3 days later, I reluctantly washed it clean. After the shower and looking in the mirror, I missed having something there.

At this time I was dating a guy who was a biker, and happened to have a large panther tattoo on his arm. He had gotten that tattoo at Lyle Tuttle's tattoo shop in San Francisco. For those of you who don't know, Lyle Tuttle is one of the tattooing Gods. His store has been around long before the boys of Miami Ink or Kat Von D were even born. It just so happened that the company I worked for was having their Annual Meeting in San Francisco in August. I knew that's where I would get my first tattoo.

August finally arrived and I was still determined to get my tattoo. I would be at the meeting for 5 days and even though I would have to work days, I would have one afternoon and most of my evenings free. I told some, ok, most of the people I was traveling with that I was going to get a tattoo and they didn't believe me. My co-worker and good friend Jackie said she would go with me. I already knew what I was going to get. A Native American bear fetish with a heartline running through it on my left breast. (Right where the tiger had been). The bear fetish represents strength and wisdom which I thought was appropriate for everything I had been through in my life up until that point. I decided to get it on my breast so I could still hide it at work. So Jackie and I hopped on a cable car and ended up at Lyle Tuttle's. Lyle wasn't there that night but a very nice woman was. She asked if she could help us. Jackie turned and said "her...not me." I told her what I wanted and she looked through some of her books to find it. She found a design that I liked and she told me to sit down. She asked if this was my first tattoo. I said yes. She said, "Well, I'm sure people have told you that it hurts." I nodded. "It doesn't really. Feels more like a bee sting and you get used to it." I was nervous, but tried to relax. She put paper towels around my shirt so as not to get ink on it, and placed the template on my chest. She asked if that position was ok. I told her yes and we got started. She was very gentle. She explained that the closer to bone, the more it would hurt. That was true. As she got near my sternum, it hurt more than when she was around the fleshy part of my breast. In about 30 to 45 minutes she was finished. Jackie said she liked it. I said I liked it...probably still dizzy from the excitement of actually getting something permanent on my body. The tattoo got bandaged, I got my little card explaining the after-care procedures and Jackie and I went to dinner. It was a little sore, but not too bad. When I got back to the hotel, I took off the bandage, and washed the tattoo gently with soap and water. I still have the t-shirt that I wore to bed that night, which still has the ink impression of my bear on it.

The next day people at the meeting asked why I got it where I did. Someone even said "Why didn't you get it on your ass so no one will see it?" I told her "Well then I wouldn't be able to see it." Some people thought it was neat. Some people thought I was crazy. I was still in love. When I got back to work, the story of my tattoo had spread and I told everyone it was fun, didn't really hurt, and that it was the only one I was going to get.

I was wrong.

I know that tattoos have become more mainstream and less "outlaw" these days. I can still look professional and hide all my tattoos. I never told my mother that I got the tattoo because I was afraid of her reaction, and now I have a memorial tattoo for her. I have gotten tattoos in Chicago and at a party in Northbrook. Most of my tattoos have come from trips to London, England, where I have been tattooed by a lanky teenager from Manchester, who spent the whole time with his tongue hanging out, a chain smoking Italian and a Dane. I have been tattooed by women and men. I have been watched while I have been tattooed and been photographed for an artists portfolio.

What shocks me is that some people get tattoos for the wrong reason. My best friend used to threaten to get a tattoo just because her fiance' said she wouldn't. That is not a reason to get something etched onto your body permanently. Each and every one of my tattoos mean something. The bear on my breast represents my life, the flowers tattooed on my right foot represent beauty. The horse on my right outside ankle, and on my right bicep represent my love for horses. The horse on my lower back is more of a spiritual horse. The bear claw on my left shoulder along with the ring of bears around my left ankle continue my life story of strength and wisdom. The cat on my left ankle represents my love for cats.

My memorial tattoos include angel cats by one of my mother's favorite artists, B. Klieban. They are on my right shoulder because I have a birthmark there from pressing against her body while in the womb. The elk (no it's not a moose), on my left bicep is for my step-father because we had a long-going joke that elk don't exist. It's on my left arm because he was left handed. There are 11 points on his antlers because his birthday was December 11. The owl on my left thigh is for my father. My father was very wise and passed it down to me. He also had a collection of owls for many years. It is a snowy owl due to "Hedwig" in "Harry Potter" because my father introduced me to the "Harry Potter" novels. It's on my left thigh because he used to call me thunder thighs when I was younger. It's on the left side because the left side is where my heart is.

I have two other tattoos. I have a disgruntled bunny on the inside of my right ankle...just because I liked it when I saw it on the wall of "flash" in a tattoo parlor in London. It is also because I am often disgruntled and have the same face and blue eyes the bunny does.

The final tattoo might be the only one I am not too proud of. It was sort of a joke, which I agree is the wrong reason to get a tattoo. But that one is on my ass and is hidden and only a few special people get to see it. But it still means something. Still is part of the "story" written on my body.

Twelve years and twelve more tattoos later I still love my first tattoo. I will admit, that over the years, the bear has sagged a bit and sometimes looks more like a giraffe. (I'll let you figure out the visual on that). I am planning on getting another tattoo. I don't know when, but I do know where and what it is going to be. It will have deep, personal meaning to me and it will, like all the others, tell a story.