Nervous Knots

True Confessions and Crochet

I Love Tattoos and I Cannot Lie

Some years ago I told my brother I had a $50 gift certificate for a tattoo. He said, “I’ll pay you $100 if you don’t get a tattoo.”

I was 40-something at the time, but when you’re the baby of the family and your big brother says something which translates to don’t you dare in your perpetually adolescent mind, you just have to do it. It’s like a rule of sibling relationships.

So I got my first tattoo, a pink ribbon on my shoulder.

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I have a number of friends and family members who’ve been affected by breast cancer, and I used to be heavily involved with our local Komen affiliate, so this first tattoo was easy to choose. I’m saying regular self-examination…regular mammograms…know your body and notice the changes.

Getting the tat, however, wasn’t so easy. Those needles sting like fire. And I’m a bleeder. Thank goodness Pookie was there to hold my hand!

I was hooked. I started talking about more ink. I like the ribbon theme, so I thought this time I’d get red. Not so many of my friends and family have been affected by HIV/AIDS, but it’s a near thing.

Finally, after five years, I visited the Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekend tattoo parlor and I got my red ribbon.

The VLV tattoo parlor hosts some of the best tattoo artists from all over the country, but I think I lucked out finding Lorne Morris. No plain, boring ribbon this time. Lorne came up with this fabulous, Elvis-inspired design. It says let’s take care of business…if you’re sexually active, know your status and use condoms…if you test positive, get treated and don’t give up.

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Pookie was rehearsing for a gig so I was alone in a room full of strangers, most of them already well-inked. I couldn’t scream or cry because I’d look like a complete wuss. I have my pride, you know!

So I sucked it up, propped my right leg on a stool, and covered my face with my hands for the duration.

I’m not done. Dobby occasionally talks about serving in the military, and I’ve promised I’ll get a yellow ribbon if he ever joins up.

If not, I’m sure I’ll find something worth the torture. For me, ink will never go out of style.

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This entry was posted on June 1, 2015 by in Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , .
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