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Blog Entry 14 of 32 Life Among the Y-Chromosomes
"Parenting is a "skill", much like oh, say, juggling, at which I believe I will never really be any good. But, also like juggling, it is much more fun to do with a solid sense of humor and the occasional cocktail." -Nikki Britain Mother of a 7 year old, and 2 year old identical twins. All boys.

Blog Url: http://denver.yourhub.com/~WombatsMama

Ink Spots

Contributed by: Nikki Britain   on 3/21/2007

I got my first tattoo a long time ago. Back when tattoo parlors were located on the same streets as liquor stores with liberal ID policies, shady pawn shops, and seedy strip clubs.

I went alone because I am alternately either fiercely independent or stupidly cavalier. I downed a shot of Irish whiskey at the bar next door. The one with no discernable name, just a couple dimly lit beer signs hanging behind the window bars.

The tattoo parlor was also unnamed, just a large red neon sign above the door blinking "TATTOO". I was the only girl in the joint and it was early evening. (This was also back when these ink shops never opened before 5 or 6 at night.)

The only designs for women then were of the butterfly, rose, heart ilk. Maybe an occasional old-school, "girly" cartoon character, such as Minnie Mouse or Tweety Bird. I brought my own design in and my tattoo artist drew it free-hand on my shoulder in permanent black ink.

(Again, this was back before these places were stocked with book after book of designs ready to be simply transferred to your particular body part then traced over by the tattoo gun.)

He was called "Liz" and I immediately felt a kinship with him (despite our 200+ pound difference in weight and the fact that barely any of his skin was visible through the tattoos he was covered in) because I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Elizabeth Taylor. Later, I found out it was short for "Lizard". So, okay.

Liz did a great job though. My very first tattoo was a success! His advice when I left for better parts of town to go show it off? "Gonna scab. Don't pick it." Sound words I've now used with my own son from time to time.

Later I went back to the same shop for my next bit of ink. A red heart on my other shoulder. With a boy's name over it. Liz tried to talk me out of the last part. "Only names you oughta have on yer skin is yer kid's or yer mom's. You'll be back to have that covered up."

But like a good man of commerce he did the job and took my money. Before the tattoo had even healed fully, the boy was history and I was back to Liz for a "cover-up". (I'm in good company though with the not listening to the tattoo artist advice thing. Johnny Depp, Pamela Anderson, and Angelina Jolie have all made the same stubborn mistake I did.)

I met my husband over a game of pool. Once we married I figured it was safe to commemorate the odd fate of our meeting. So before we headed west to Vegas to make our first home together, I visited ol' Liz one last time. I told him I wanted an eight ball inked over the heart.

I told him why. It was the first time I'd ever seen him smile. He gave me a discount and wished me a long, happy marriage. It was a much better gift than the crystal cake plate we received. Again, he did the design free-hand. It remains my favorite tattoo.

For me, tattoos are the body adornment equivalent of Milk Duds or Cool Ranch Doritos. I am genetically unable to enjoy just one. Must have more. So the visits to various ink parlors throughout the country continued. Every subsequent tattoo has a story.

Each honoring an event I want to remember. My very first tattoo has faded to grey now. And the ink has bled a bit around the outline. There is a small scar in the middle of it, courtesy of a long-ago scratch from my first Australian Shepherd when she was just a pup and my tat was fresh.

That dog lived to be thirteen before we had to put her down three years ago last November. I will never have my first tattoo "re-inked".

Apparently, tattoos are also contagious. My husband had a 'Tiger Hawk' inked on his arm one summer afternoon in a small town in eastern Nebraska.

Neither of us remembers the actual cost of said work but he proudly refers to it as his "twenty thousand dollar tattoo", in reference to tuition money spent earning his degree at the University of Iowa in the early 90's.

I believe it also conjures memories of brain cells killed with penny pitchers at The Airliner in downtown Iowa City.

In the beginning, before tattoos became commonplace for us girlies, the comments I received on mine ranged from the negative to the merely absurd. My own 80-something year old grandfather told me I "looked like a sailor".


And a suburban housewife at the library one day wanted to know if I had "done time". I look nothing like a sailor. And I'm happy to tell you that even though my own babysitter has her belly button pierced (OUCH!), I've never asked her how long she was in a harem. I have also never spent a single day in prison.

I will continue to get tattoos. Right now I am pondering the perfect, permanent way to mark, in tattoo ink, the birth of our twin sons. It may take a couple years before I finally have the work done. But I'm in no hurry. Sometimes it takes awhile to tell a good story.



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Showing 1-10 of 23 comments
Submitted By: Nikki Britain
posted on 3/27/2007 @ 6:36:55 PM
(Not Rated)
extrememly=extremely
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Submitted By: Nikki Britain
posted on 3/27/2007 @ 6:36:10 PM
(Not Rated)
Me too, Brendan. Also, Mike, if you're reading, it would be extrememly helpful to me to have a wine to pair with Whoppers.
[Report as objectionable]
Submitted By: Nikki Britain
posted on 3/27/2007 @ 6:34:53 PM
(Not Rated)
Oh, Barbara, I'm only a rebel in my own mind these days. :-)
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Submitted By: Barbara Neff
posted on 3/27/2007 @ 2:18:01 PM
Rated Blog Entry
Nikki, you rebel. Somehow your having tats does not surprise me.
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Submitted By: Brendan Leonard
posted on 3/27/2007 @ 11:58:46 AM
Rated Blog Entry
I am ready for a Mike Keleman blog on wines that pair well with Cool Ranch Doritos.
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Submitted By: Nikki Britain
posted on 3/24/2007 @ 10:13:41 PM
(Not Rated)
That's something, Gladys! I hope I'm still "getting inked" when I'm 56!
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Submitted By: Gladys Mercier
posted on 3/24/2007 @ 7:11:04 PM
Rated Blog Entry
My brother-in-law had always wanted a tattoo but was afraid of what his mother would say. When she died, he got his first one the next day, at 56 years old. He now has 6!
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Submitted By: Nikki Britain
posted on 3/23/2007 @ 7:59:22 PM
(Not Rated)
Cesari Amarone, Mike. Or a Firestone cab if there's one in the wine cabinet. It's actually kinda fun to drink good wine out of a plastic tumbler. Takes me back to my college days.....
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Submitted By: Nikki Britain
posted on 3/23/2007 @ 7:54:27 PM
(Not Rated)
Charmaine, you're braver than me. Your belly button??? Yee-ouch! If you can do that you can definitely handle a tattoo!
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Submitted By: Nikki Britain
posted on 3/23/2007 @ 7:52:40 PM
(Not Rated)
I like piercings too, Jamie. Have the 'lobes done multiple times and now I'm thinking maybe my nose? That would probably really embarrass my kids once they become teenagers.
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Showing 1-10 of 23 comments
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CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Nikki Britain

Parker , CO

Nikki Britain has posted 32 blog entries and 822 comments since joining on 1/5/2007. Nikki Britain 's average blog rating is 4.97.
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