My New Chimerical Kit

I am here to challenge the merits of using reverse psychology on your adult children.  I am also here to plead the forgiveness of my mother in case she happens to read this post.

Mom: I’m so sorry… but you have to admit, I’ve been a pretty good kid.  No major heart attacks, no bailing me out of jail… no serious rebellious phase.  Good kid.  Just remember that… good kid.

Some Background

Back when I was 20 I celebrated my birthday by getting my very first tattoo.  My boyfriend at the time obliged by taking me to Rick’s Tattoo Studio in Arlington (the place where he had most of his work done) and I got inked for the first time.  Had I known a little more about tattoos I might have chosen a different place on my body, but I am the proud owner of a “tramp stamp” in the style of a Hawaiian petroglyph of two guys holding oars.  I still love it.  My mother, on the other hand, does not.

Skin is so beautiful… why would any one do that?

Well, I personally think skin is beautiful too… I just think it’s a beautiful empty canvas.  Anyway, I made the horrible mistake of accidentally allowing my mother to find out about the tattoo on Mother’s Day of the same year.  Oops.  I had actually contemplated writing her a letter to tell her about it, drafted several copies, and then decided that since it was on my lower back there should never be a reason for her to see it and I could hide it for the rest of my life.  Too bad I like low-cut jeans.

Once my mother found out the only think that I could think of that might be worse would be having my father find out.  So, we collectively decided that we would keep my little “indiscretion” a secret from him.  It would be all for the better.  After all, what good is a pilot when he’s had a massive stroke?

Time passed, and I spent many summers of my youth condemned to one-piece bathing suits.  Finally, when I was 23 or 24 I decided that I was cute, I had a cute little body, and I would be damned if I was going to spend another Caribbean vacation without a bikini.  So I told my mother that it was time my father knew.  And that I thought the perfect way for him to find out would be for her to tell him.  (Yes, as an adult I still fear my father’s disappointment.)

Entrée the Reverse Psychology

My mother did tell him and his reaction when he saw me for the first time was, “Well, let’s see this tattoo then…” and that was about it.  No lecture.  No yelling.  No talk of disappointment.  He did reiterate the fact that my mother had already pointed out years earlier which was, “Don’t ever let your grandparents or your Aunt Jean see that thing.”

So we’re at the airport, I’m happy that I’ll be able to wear the cute little bikinis that I’ve packed in my suitcase.  We were in line to check our bags, and I was excited about heading out to Curaçao.  I clearly remember sitting on my suitcase and looking down, and there on my knee I noticed for the first time that the freckles that were on my left knee happened to form the shape of the Big Dipper.

“Weird,” I thought to myself.  And then I said, “Look, Dad!  I have freckles in the shape of the Big Dipper on my knee!!”

He looks over and makes the (now) infamous statement, “Well, if I were you, I’d get them tattooed on.”

Now, I’m sure that that was meant to be some kind of dig at my first tattoo and that there was some kind of reverse psychology going on there.  But what I’m sure my father didn’t bank on with his slightly sarcastic remark was that he actually gave me an idea rather than make me think about my actions.

Fast Forward to the Present

Several months ago I finally decided that it was time to start exploring this very sarcastic thing that my father said to me six years ago.  I posted a blog about it, and sadly password protected it because I was afraid that perhaps one (or both) of my parents might read it (not much has changed in the past six years as far as being afraid of disappointing my parents).  I passed out the password to a few select individuals from my Twitter stream and friends around town, begging them not to tell my parents.  I did some research.  And I hit a dead end.

Finally, I just decided that the only way to get a tattoo done is to just have it done.  I did a search on Yelp.com for local tattoo studios (because the ones I contacted in D.C. and Arlington didn’t ever respond to my emails) and chose The Body Gallery in Leesburg.  It was close, had awesome reviews on Yelp and it was close (in case I didn’t mention that).

I met with Jed there on a Wednsday and the following Thursday I was scheduled to go in to get inked again.

Getting Inked (Twice)

I probably didn’t voice this at the beginning of the year, but I made a very informal New Year’s Resolution that I was going to give blood as many times as absolutely, humanly possible this year.  I’m O-Negative so I feel very strongly about sharing my “universal donor” blood.  So I panicked during that week that I was waiting to get my tattoo done thinking that maybe I couldn’t give blood any more.  I almost backed out entirely on it, thinking that I’d just do it another year.  But I called INOVA and found out that in Virginia, if you use a licensed DPOR regulated studio, there’s only a 1 week waiting period after getting a tattoo.  SWEET!  The Body Gallery is licensed and DPOR regulated.

But, just in case, I thought it was probably best to get one more blood donation in before I went.  I scheduled myself to go give blood a grand total of three hours before I was supposed to get my tattoo.  Can I say that I do not recommend this for future reference?

Yeah, let’s just say that I passed out.  Twice.

I was horribly embarrassed!  I am not even a fainter!  Granted, I got kinda woozy when I had my first tattoo done, but I didn’t actually PASS OUT.  Nope, this time, I was out cold.  And as weird as this sounds, it was AWESOME!  I didn’t even know that I had passed out until I came to.  I saw all kinds of awesome colors and I heard really rhythmic music… and then I panicked at the end a bit and woke up and was terribly embarrassed.

Well, the tattoo happened, and it parts of it looked great… but other parts didn’t look so good.  It was clearly going to need a touch-up, and Jed and I had discussed adding some white highlights to really make the stars twinkle.

Last Wednesday I went back to have the touch-up done, and it looks awesome now.  Perfect… in fact, better than I could have imagined.  What’s even better… I didn’t pass out!

The picture below is “most” of the design, because there is one star on the outside of my calf that you can’t see in this shot.  I figured that you can’t have the Big Dipper without the North Star, and there just so happened to be a freckle right where the North Star should have been.  Keep in mind that all the stars are tattooed over top of actual freckles.  I couldn’t be happier with it!  (And keep your comments to yourself about my incredibly white legs… I don’t tan!!!)

Mom…. again… I’m sorry.  And I hate to tell you this, but it probably won’t be my last.  I also promise to wear pants around Grandmother, Granddaddy, and Aunt Jean.

UPDATE: Melissa requested that I post detail pictures so everyone could really see what the stars looked like… I tried posting them in the comments, but something happened!!  Here they are:

P.S. There’s an awesome site that tells about Mizar A, one of the most interesting stars in the Big Dipper; incidentally also the one that I passed out while Jed was tattooing the first time.  You should definitely check it out.

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