Let’s be honest. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo sounds SOOOO much more provocative, but I don’t have a dragon. I have a heart. And some chinese characters. And a tribal heart. And a tribal symbol honoring Florence. Why?
I am not a big talker. I am one of those people that if they vocalize something, they better step up to the plate and deliver. I had always wanted one, and for whatever reason, I love hearts. In college, my friends and I were playing some form of two truths and a lie, and my lie was “I have a heart shaped tattoo”. People believed me. Since it was something I had always wanted to do, I figured why not - just do it. If people believed that was a “me” thing to do, it was meant to be.
In the late 80’s when I did this, tattoos were reserved for biker dudes and only the saltiest of ladies. Today, every teenager walks around with what I am certain will be regrettable to them a few years from now. But for me, the heart spoke volumes.
It spoke of independence. I drove with my best high school girlfriend to a place in Providence, and approached the counter with faux swagger as I handed the burly guy with the leather vest and full sleeve of ink behind the counter a picture of what I wanted. I walked out 1/2 hour later with a tiny red heart, a bandage, and a whole new confidence.
I didn’t tell anyone. There’s something about knowing you’ve done something just for yourself, just because you can. I’m sure at the time I was feeling rebellious and I secretly knew it would piss my parents off (it did). But I also thought, I’m an adult now. It’s my body. I’m making choices I need to live with for the rest of my life. This is a test to see how smart I really am.
Since that day in the late 80’s, I’ve headed back for the ink three more times. It didn’t occur to me until I started to write this that each of those times, I was intending to make a statement of independence. I got my second the week before I got married. I got my third when I found out I was pregnant. I got my last, and final one, as a tribute to my family. Each time, I think I was saying, “I am giving you a piece of myself - but I will always be true to me”.
Each of them is meaningful in its own way, and I took careful time to think about its design and placement. I gave great thought to “what’s going to look really bad when I’m 60?” Arguably, they may all look stupid to you. E hates them. My parents hate them. Honestly, I don’t really care who likes or hates them. I keep them mostly hidden, and if you judge me by my tattoos alone, you’d miss out on a much bigger picture. Ultimately, it’s my body, my art, my story. It is remains one of the very few things in my life I don’t have to share with anyone. It’s mine alone.
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