I love getting that reaction from people when they see it on my foot. Yes, I have a tattoo. Let me tell you about it.
I got it when I was 18 years old, in 2004. One day while at school, shortly after my dear friend, Shannon's 18th birthday, I told her I'd buy her a tattoo to celebrate the occasion and I'd get one too! We drove to "Smokin' Joes" after school that same day. We had to drive to TX since they were still illegal in OK at the time.
Before we left town, I had to drive through the bank to get some cash. I remember that part because that was when I called my mom (on my old-school Nokia cell phone) to tell her what we had decided to do. She seemed fine with it. Our conversation was brief because she was working.
We were off! We giggled the whole way, talking about what we were going to get. They would be matching, of course. And I decided I'd let Shannon pick it out since it was for her birthday, after all. (Only an 18 year old agrees to letting someone else pick something that goes on their body permanently.)
When we arrived at Smokin' Joes they asked us what we wanted. We didn't know. We looked at the designs on the walls for a while and Shannon picked a flower. Sure, why not? So we got matching flowers right on the top of our right foot. We took pictures of each other getting our new tats on a disposable camera.
It didn't take very long and it wasn't as painful as I had imagined. We walked out of there feeling VERY cool. . . or at least, I did. On the drive home it started to dawn on me: this flower was going to be on my foot, FOREVER! It's not going to come off! Is this still going to be cool when I'm 28? 38? 88?! I never mentioned a word of this to Shannon but I was panicking inside. Some other thoughts I hadn't considered before: "What was my grandma going to say? Or all the adults at church? What is this going to look like when I'm a grandma someday? Oh crap, MY GRANDMA!! Are tattoos a sin?" (Keep in mind, these were questions in 18 year old Nancy's head).
I dropped Shannon off and we showed her mom. She didn't seem too thrilled but I may have read into this since she didn't say much at all. What was done was done. I then went home and waited for my mom to come home. When she did I jumped up to show her my foot. SHE WAS LIVID! Come to find out, my mom thought I was joking when I called to tell her my plans . . . Whoops.
(Side-note: If you ask my mom today, she will deny this part, as our memories of this event remain very different.)
I was mortified with my mom's reaction. So, like with all things in high school, I called my youth minister, Jeremy.
(Side-note 2: I still call Jeremy from time to time to talk about life's issues.)
Me (sobbing): "Jeremy, what do you think about tattoos?"
Jeremy: "From the sounds of it, it doesn't really matter what I think about them. Why don't you come over and show us."
So I did. I went and showed them my foot but I was a little ashamed to show his daughters.
Jeremy told me to stop hiding my foot under his coffee table and get over it. I had done it. It was too late to worry about it now.
The next day at school was much more fun than that first evening home with it. I LOVED hearing everyone's shocked reaction that we had gotten tattoos. We were, after all, "goody-goody" and this was very unlike what people thought we would do. I think that was part of the reason I wanted a tattoo. It seemed bold and daring and even a little rebellious. Living most of my life "straight-laced," it was fun to get a rise out of people. I had made a lot of the decisions in my life considering what I should do, or what others thought I should do. It was a little fun to be on the other side of that. Until my grandma saw it.
I don't remember the exact timing of when she saw it, but I remember how I felt. I was outside watering the grass for my mom and my grandma came out of her house (next door). I was barefoot. I walked over without thinking to greet her and then as I approached her, I remembered. Too late. She saw it as I went in to hug her and she squeezed me a little tighter than normal. She held me for a second and said "No matter what you ever do, you know I will always love you." We both knew what that meant and she has never mentioned my tattoo directly. I was relieved with how she responded to finding out but part of me felt like I had disappointed her, and I hated that. I still remember the knot in my stomach as we hugged.
A few months after I got the flower, I decided to add a verse beneath it. I wanted my tattoo to say something about me, personally. I picked Isaiah 40:8 which says "The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the Lord remains forever."
I like this verse for 3 reasons:
1) I believe this verse to be true
2) It mentions a flower so I felt that tied in well
3) It's kind of ironic (being a permanent tattoo and all)
FAST FORWARD 2 YEARS TO 2006. Derek and I had been dating for about a year and were driving somewhere. Tattoos had just become legal in Oklahoma (I think we were one of the last states if not THE last state to legalize tattoos). As result, there were tattoo parlors going up like hot cakes! There was a billboard in Ardmore for a tattoo place called "Wookies" in Mansville. It said the following: "Do something awesome with your best friend!" When Derek saw it, he laughed out loud and said, "Who would do that?! Who would go get a matching tattoo with their friend?" Then he remembered my first tattoo story. . . I would. I would go and do something like that, and I did.
I love this story because it is one of the few times in our relationship where Derek was the one putting his foot in his mouth. ;)
When I talk about my tattoo now, people often ask me if I regret getting it. Nope. Not at all. I have seen my tattoo create opportunities for me to talk to people that might not have happened otherwise. It's amazing how people will open up once they feel like you have common ground. I have even gotten additional tattoos since then. And will probably get more.
I also don't regret getting a matching tattoo with Shannon. Although we do not get to see each other as often as I'd like, I still consider her a friend and love having this memory with her. We've known each other since we were 6ish. She is a good woman and has always been a friend to me. I have so many memories with her and most of my fond high school memories include her. She was my best friend then and is still a treasure to me now.
When I first wrote this post, I ended with the photo. But after giving it some thought, I began to realize why I wanted to share about my tattoo in the first place. If you notice, all I talk about is people's reactions to it. I think my tattoo means so much to me now because of that. Not so much the random people who see it on my less pedicured 28 year old foot, but the ones who saw it in the beginning, shook their heads at me, hugged me, and loved me in spite of it. It serves as a little permanent reminder of the people in my life truly love me. Impulsive 18 year old me, and the sometimes still impulsive 28 year old me - they are both loved, equally. It's kind of like this blog. I know that some people will not like everything that I type, but there remains a select few that will shake their heads at me and still want to hug me and love me. Even if they completely disagree with me. That is so special and freeing, to be loved like that. To know that no matter what silly thing you do (or permanent decision you make), you have people in your corner, cheering you on and doing life with you.
So to those of you (my grandma, Jeremy, and others) who love me in spite of my unconventional, irrational, emotional and sometimes just plain stupid ways, THANK YOU. Thank you for giving me the courage to believe I am loveable. You are a godsend and I know that you are storing up great treasures in heaven for loving this little sheep.
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