Inked

I've been wanting to blog about tattoos for a while now, but I haven't found the proper inspiration until lately.

Inspiration number one comes from the good ol' Times-Call, Longmont's fine newspaper. Last week their headline story was about a fund raiser put on for the Shriners hospitals. It was basically a tattoo beauty pageant where local folks proudly put their ink on display. Despite the fact that this was all for a really good cause, there were those crazy conservatives who responded in the TC-Line with comments about how shameful it was for the Shriners to accept money from people with tattoos. I had to laugh.

The second source of inspiration came from the Mile High Music Festival this weekend where about 50% of attendees sported tattoos. There were a few times during the day when I thought I was at a Matthew McConaughey convention because many of the men seemed to have lost their shirts. One guy in particular was a sight to see: he had no shirt, a Jesus fish necklace, was smoking weed and had a unicorn tattoo on his back. My dad and I figured he wasn't sober when he got the tattoo. Or maybe he lost a bet.

As a sociologist I'm fascinated by tattoos and society's attitude toward them. It's so funny to hear the disapproval of Longmonter's versus the acceptance of the crowd at the music festival.

With that said, I'll go ahead and explain my tattoos. During my senior year of high school I read a book about cultures around the world and was intrigued by some articles about tattoos. I decided that I wanted a tattoo. I didn't get one immediately for two reasons: I was only 17 and there's no way my parents would have consented to the ink, plus I wanted to get a tattoo that was a meaningful rite of passage. At the time I had no good ideas. I didn't want to rush into the decision since it would permanent. It wasn't until three years later that I felt ready to get one. I decided on Pablo Picasso's Dove of Peace sketch. I can't explain what it is about this image that impacts me so greatly, but all I can say is that it calms my soul every time I look at it. I have a poster of the sketch which I hung in my dorm room and looked at frequently to center myself amidst the chaos that was college.

My best friend Kristin was ready to get her second one so we set up an appointment and got inked. We chose an artist in Denver who is a friend of her family and is very talented. I was pretty nervous about the situation but my nerves were calmed by the tattoo artist as he talked about his hatred for James Dobson (somewhere in there he mentioned that he wanted to chop off Dobson's head and poop down his neck. Kristin and I found this hilarious).



I chose to get the dove tattooed on the back of my calf for a few reasons. First, I figured it was a pretty fatty part of my body which would hurt less than other parts. Second, I wanted it in a spot which could be easily covered for situations when tattoos might not be appreciated (such as job interviews), but easily displayed when so desired. Years later I'm very glad that I chose that spot because it allows for the good ol' element of surprise. I love it when I meet people and become acquainted with them before they see my tattoos. Because they don't see them right away, they don't immediately stamp me with a stereotype and judge my character before getting to know me. My favorite example of this is a co-worker of mine who didn't realize I had tattoos until after several months of working together at the library. She's a mother with grown kids and leans a bit on the conservative side. Once she saw my tattoo, she said "I didn't know you have a tattoo! I thought only sailors and inmates got those". I'm not sure whether or not this changed her perception of me, but at least she got the chance to get to know me first.

I got my second tattoo 13 months after my first. I waited considerably less time to get this one, but I had known for years that I wanted it. I decided to get the word "Selah" on my wrist. This is a word that has a very deep meaning to me, which I'll explain in another post very soon (my typing endurance is wearing out tonight). While my first tattoo was the result of planning way in advance, I decided to get this tattoo about three days before I got it. I woke up one morning and did my usual centering prayer to start the day when I had the crazy realization that I had finally shaken off the anger and bitterness I had towards the situation at my church involving our former youth pastor. This was huge since I had been carrying it around for four years. I had assumed that it would come with much talking and reflection with others who had experienced the same heartache, but actually it came about through reflection in solitude. I was 1500 miles away from the mess, surrounded by people who had no idea what the situation was and somehow I managed to be at peace with it all. I had to mark this breakthrough and decided to get another tattoo.

My co-manager, Graham, had gotten a tattoo a few weeks before from a local artist and he gave me the name of the shop. I didn't even make an appointment, instead I just drove up to Picayune, plopped down the money and got permanently inked. I thought it would be appropriate to go alone because it was significant that this revelation came about through solitude. This time, the artist didn't spout out his opinion about some religious figure, in fact I think the only time he talked was when he asked me which freckle I wanted to match the color to. Other than that, there was a girl getting a fingerstache and a guy getting a gigantic eagle on his back.



I frequently get asked if I plan to get more tattoos. I don't know the answer. I've got an idea for what I'd like to get next, but I only plan on getting inked when I have moments of revelation in my life. I'm not the type to just go out and get a tattoo because I think it looks cool (remember the guy with the unicorn on his back?). And I certainly don't plan on getting full sleeves or anything like that.