Rat-a-Tat-Tat
Every so often, when sitting on a barstool, or crouching in a yoga position, someone invariably says to me (usually in a shocked voice): "Heather! You have a tattoo!"
My favorite thing about this exclamation is the fact that they say it as if I didn't know - somehow they believe they're illuminating for me the haunting truth that someone held me down and drove needles of ink into my body without my knowledge.
My second favorite part of this whole discussion is the fact that people continue to be shocked by it. As though it was some hugely transgressive action that warrants a disclaimer. For some reason, my "girl next door" Montana self is inconsistent with a simple tatt on my lower back.
For me, the tattoo is one of the least transgressive things I feel like I have ever done. I thought it out for a long while. Had a friend design it. Shopped around for the best tattoo artist in SF to do it. Took great care in healing it (unlike the 3 times I've had my navel pierced and rejected it). There was nothing spontaneous or rash or rebellious about that choice.
To me, it's just an inked world, and these days, a tattoo is no more transgressive than an ear piercing (or 5, as the case may be).
So ink away, people.
-Heather... off to dream of anchors and hearts with arrows and the word "Mom" ...




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