Before you start to judge and form opinions based on the
title of this post, I want to challenge you to stay open-minded and neutral about all the
possibilities and consider the other side of the issue.
Now, my mom was always the type of person who despised the
idea of tattoos. This always surprised me because she is by far the most
canning example of a 50+ woman who lives the life of a 20-something. But as
long as I can remember, she always cautioned---and by cautioned I actually mean
threatened---if I ever came home with a tattoo, she would take a wire brush to my ink until it was gone. AKA the first, second, and quite possibly the third layer of my flesh
would be slowly rubbed off until it was raw and the tattoo was gone. This not
only kept be from getting a tattoo, but also caused me to cringe and slightly vomit
in my mouth anytime she began her "No Tattoos" speech.
Undergrad was the first time I began to contemplate the idea
of a tattoo. I thought I wanted 13 stars on the top of
my foot (Yes. Stars.) (Yes. 13.) (Yes. It did seem like I had a Lisa Frank obsession
that I never dealt with properly.) Thankfully, I was able to catch onto social cues and understand that people MAY or may not judge
this and question my sanity after seeing 13 stars thrown up on my foot. However, I think it is pretty safe to say that every tattoo
is questioned on some level or another. Example: Tramp stamps, tribal arm bands, and any collegiate or professional team mascots anywhere on the body. Fortunately, I never went through with this dream tat because A) I was
cheap B) Afraid of the pain & C) Seriously questioned how I would explain this choice
to my future students.
Around February, I started to look again at my tattoo
options. I began to think that I wanted one, but not 13 stars on my foot! I
thought I should get a tattoo with white ink only… Possibly on the wrist. Now, for clarification, it
wasn’t because I saw Lindsay Lohan got one on her wrist during a TMZ news
alert…(insert ounce of credibility here)… For some reason, I thought my idea
was novel.
Fast forward to a quick Google search and I realized that not only
was it not a new concept, but that the hot-mess actress formerly known for her
cute portrayal of twins in Parent Trap, but now only known for her frequent
visits to jail and rehab had the exact idea on her body. Dang. Not exactly the trend I want to emulate. Miraculously,
this didn’t stop me from still entertaining the idea.
Because I need to be reassured on big life decisions that I make, I
had to go to my number one advisee and number one tattoo hater: Momma Doli. As I braced myself for the conversation, I imagined my wrist being brushed with wires until she hit an artery. Slowly, I brought up the idea of my tattoo. I could see her grab an invisible wire brush and clutch it for dear life as I pled my case. I ended my plea
with, “And it will be done in white ink!” In a shocking turn of events, she let
out a boisterous “HA!” Well, this wasn’t the reaction I had prepped for. I
watch as her fist turned back into her normal hand, and triumph spread across
her face. Eerily calm, she explained herself, “Well, why would you get a white tattoo?
Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” And with a smug smile, she silently gave me the look of satisfaction that meant she won.
Touché.
In order to better explain myself, I grabbed my iPad and
pulled up a couple images. As she began to scroll through them, she was still calm and strangely quiet.
I slowly poked her to gauge her thoughts. In a turn of events she uttered the
unthinkable, “Those are kind of…. Cute.”
Boom. Victory.
As I got serious about my tattoo, I settled on the wrist as
a solid spot. I could see it. It doesn’t get too wrinkly or stretched as I age [says some guy on ChaCha--probably a tat expert].
I can cover it with my watches and bracelets. Basically, it was prime real
estate. Being that this ink would be permanently affiliated with me, I decided
it would be wise to come up with a solid CTC to keep me straight when it came
time to haggle with the tattoo parlor.
Cameron’s Tattoo Criteria
1) Needs to be white
2) Needs to be small (no stacking of words or
wrapping it around my wrist like an arm band.)
3) Needs to be in a script, “girly” font (NO block
or serif fonts like Times New Roman!)
4) Needs to be socially acceptable to show off (future students,
future employers, and, if need be, elderly family members)
At this point, I can only guess that you are questioning the
most important piece of the tattoo. “Cameron, what in the world are you
tattooing to your body?!” Well… Let me tell you, but before I do, let’s get on
the same page.
Up until this point, I have been building the courage to let
you in on what I want to get tattooed on my body. We are now all in the circle
of Tat Trust and thus must follow a single rule: “Thou Shalt Not Judge.”
Agree? Agree.
Drum rollllllllllll......
Faith.
Yes. Faith. Simple enough. Self explanatory.
Visualizing is a crucial part to preparing for a tattoo… Or
at least I think it is… And as I visualized my one word tattoo, I started to
think that Faith was too simple. Too blasé. Too common. I mean, might as well
stack hope and love underneath it and post it to Pinterest. {Violation of CTC #2
and besides a violations... that is oh my gosh sick.} So this sudden epiphany required me to get creative. I went to a favorite verse of
mine.
Hebrews 11:1.
"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."
I was really reluctant at first to go the route of a Jesus inspired
tattoo. I find that religion tats walk a little too much on the controversial
edge for my comfort, but I do know that there would be less questioning when it
came to explaining this to a student or parent while washing hogs or shearing
lambs in my future career. (Obviously, I won’t be covering it with bracelets or
watches during those events.) And this verse was more personalized than merely the word: faith, and it embodied what I wanted... So with my CTC in hand and a solid idea of my
dream tat, the journey continued.
Recently, I took a trip with a couple friends to Vegas.
During this time, I contemplated getting my tattoo. Thus, Vegas Tat 2012 was
born. As I thought about this life altering decision, I couldn’t help but mull
over the phrase, “What happens in Vegas…” Oh wait. Nope. That won’t work…
Instead, I changed the mantra to “#YOLO.” Because really, a Vegas tat story can
really only fall under the “You Only Live Once” lifestyle choice category.
Now, I wouldn’t recommend this, but I didn’t do a ton of
researching before arriving in Vegas. The little research that had been done by
one of the friends pre-trip basically showed that Vegas parlors were EXPENSIVE with a
minimum charge amount of $100. Steep, but YOLO.
The day we decided to do my tattoo, we
started at the Bellagio concierge. Mainly because the Bellagio is classy and we
paid a mysterious resort fee, which we assumed had to cover a few sessions with the concierge. When we
inquired about tattoo parlors, they kindly stated that they couldn’t recommend
any place because of the liability and I understood where they were coming from. Picture this: They recommend Rick’s Tattoos and instead of Hebrews 11:1, I walk
out with He Brews 111 as a tramp stamp… No good. So, instead, they handed over
a list that we assumed was made up of legit tattoo parlors and chose the 4th
one--Planet Hollywood. Why? Because it was the closest.
When we walked into the parlor, we were met with a ‘tattoo
stage,’ that had three stations set up. In front of the stations was a rail with a
few touchscreen computers that let customers browse artist portfolios. They even had a screen where you could enter your wording and choose various fonts. When a
computer opened up, I approached it and began to mess with fonts. A couple minutes
passed before a man [it was assumed that he was the tattoo pimp per say] approached me and asked if I had any questions.
I have to think he was running something along these lines in his brain as
he eyed my posse and me: “This is some Lohan-wannabe-20-something looking to
YOLO in Vegas during her girls trip with some tat she and her girl crew dreamed up while drinking on the plane here.” And he would be correct with about 3/4 of that assumption: no tat planning happened on the plane.... Or drunk. But let’s get
real. Most likely he really didn’t care as long as I was willing to fork over the
Benjamin’s to make the tat dream and tat reality.
I began to give my spiel about the CTC and my verse. He patiently waited for me to finish only to respond that he had just 2 artists that would do white
ink. Apparently, their shifts didn’t start until 5. He encouraged me to come
back over then and talk to them about my dream tattoo. He handed me some very
intimidating tattoo business cards, and rounded out our conversation with some
horrible news. Basically, the tattoo pimp cautioned me about my choice of font.
He said that I should look for fonts that are blocky and thick because wispy,
“girly” fonts wouldn’t be successful in white. My eyes probably popped out of
my head and I envisioned HEBREWS 11:1 tattooed on me. I politely said thank you and
walked out.
In my head, I was shouting-- "NO! No way! Absolutely not! I
am not putting Impact or Arial or Courier font on my wrist for life. You must be outside your mind.
That is against CTC!" – During lunch I mulled over my options. I could come back and check with the artists that night,
but I felt like I needed options and back up plans. Most of those involved
changing the color, position, or the actual words of my tattoo. All options seemed
quite ridiculous seeing as this was MY tattoo that I was paying for and it would be on MY BODY for LIFE… Which led
me to the cold hard truth: I guess Vegas Tat 2012 wasn’t meant to be.
For the
record: I am completely tattoo free.
I returned to Oklahoma defeated by the Vegas tat pimp. For awhile, I pondered whether or not my guardian angel was actually just looking out for me as if to say, “Listen.
YOLO isn’t something you will want to lean on as reasoning for a Vegas Tat 2012 in
20 years.” Or perhaps it was common sense kicking in during the afternoon pool
sesh at the Bellagio when it dawned on me that the Vegas tattoo parlors were all but
murdering me by asking for $100 to tattoo 11 characters in WHITE INK! Most likely, though, would be the years of threatening done by my mother subconsciously worked their way into my lunch debate and won it by waving around the imaginary wire brush...
armyproperty.com
So, the simple answer to the question…
“Not to tattoo.”
