Sarah_ Blank

Today was one of the tasks that I both feared and was the most excited to conquer. Getting another tattoo has been something I have wanted to do for 10 years. The story surrounding my first tattoo is a little comical: picture cute little 19 year-old Sarah in far, far away Davenport, Iowa. Imagine me working 18 hour days and feeling like the coolest girl in the world on her day off, sitting in a pathetic excuse for a Mexican food restaurant with two older co-workers, thinking that I'm the shit because I'm drinking a fishbowl sized margarita, and admittedly, getting pretty wasted. My two older co-workers were talking about doing something wild on our evening off, like getting their tongues pierced (because that was the cool thing to do in 2000) and somewhere along the line, pierced tongues turned in to tattoos....we should ALL get tattoos! I never had any interest in tongue piercing although during the course of my youth, I had several other interesting piercings....but somehow the idea of a tattoo was intriguing and dangerous. Now mind you, up until this moment, the extent of my drinking experience was Blue Hawaiians in Juarez and keg beer, so this margarita was clouding my judgement somewhat. So we three ladies headed to the tattoo parlor. One girl got a tribal butterfly, the other, some sort of ying yang thing. Even in my buzzedness, I knew I couldn't get a generic tattoo that everyone else would have when they're 80. I kept looking and looking, pawing through the books while the others got theirs done. Music was playing as I looked, and the Lenny Kravitz song, "Let Love Rule" started right as I laid my eyes on a tattoo of a heart with a crown on it. I thought of it as an omen, and got it tattooed on my right hip. I vaguely remember the experience as feeling like hot little pinches on my skin. I remember the tattoo artist saying, "Welcome to your new addiction," after he finished, and over the years there have been so many tattoos I wanted and thought about.

So it was time to actually get it done. I hemmed and hawed over so many tattoos online, and did my research this time. I knew that I would know the right tattoo when I saw it, and I'd feel it in my gut when I saw it, just like the first one (which I don't regret; it's one of my few great, crazy stories) When I found this art deco callalilly, it appealed to me for several reasons. One, callalilys are my Mom's favorite flower, and we both love art deco style stuff. Next, it wasn't too big or too small.

It had few elements I thought needed to be modified, so I drew in the changes. I made the leaves a tiny bit more swirly, and added an S underneath the leaves.

My final decision. I added the S, not for Sarah, but for Sally, my Mom's name. Callalillys are really her thing, and when I saw it, I knew it would be beautiful, but also symbolic in a non-obvious kind of way. Driving to the appointment, I was freaked. Up until the last moment, I still hadn't decided where to put the tattoo. I'm very adamant that my tattoos should be hidden. I have respect for visibly tattooed people, because it isn't just a decision thats forever, but it's a forever decision that people can see everyday. Tattoos are art, and I commend those who choose to display them, but for me, I know that I'd much rather keep them to myself. They are for me, and those I choose to share them with. As I was driving, it struck me. This tattoo has to go somewhere on my back. I learned how to be strong, to have a backbone from my Mother, and if this tattoo is for her, it has to be on my spine. There is a quote I love that reads, "Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where a backbone aught to be." I love that quote, and it's always made so much sense to me because growing up, I was always a timid, shy little kid, and my Mom was always encouraging me to be more vocal, more assertive. I've grown out of it, but those words of advice she has given me have always stuck around.

There was no way in hell I was going to get a tramp stamp, or put it on my shoulder, so I chose to put it directly in the middle of my back, right underneath my bra. Good thing it wasn't a long drive, so I didn't have time to really think about how much it was going to hurt to put it there.

And hurt it did. I felt like hot nails were getting dug underneath my skin. The outline, as predicted, hurt the worst. It was all over within an hour, and I was very pleased with the final product.

Cheers to pain! And my Mama :-) Mission completed.


PS-The song above is the one playing on Pandora when I found this tattoo :-) Amanda Blank is anything but timid or shy. Lovesit!