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By infmom, January 25, 2010 9:09 pm

When I got my tattoos, I was employed.  Where I worked when I got my first tattoo, the dress code said that tattoos were not to be visible (although I never knew of anyone getting disciplined for breaking that rule).  The second place I worked had no specific rule about tattoos, but the general feeling among our managers was that “professional attire” did not include visible ink.  So I chose to have all my ink placed where I could easily cover it up with clothing.

Now, however, being retired, and being the age that I am, I am thinking seriously about getting another tattoo that will be visible.  I’m leaning toward an elaborate bracelet, or maybe a half sleeve that ties in with my first tattoo, my seven stars.  I’m not sure exactly how I’d go about that, but I have been mulling over asking my favorite artist, Kythera of Anevern, to draw me a mythical being of some kind that would work well with stars.  I’d get the colors touched up on the stars at the same time, since over the last 12 years they have faded quite a bit.

The stars are visible already if I wear the right neckline, and when they are visible I get asked about them a lot.  I like that.  I’d like to have something else that’s easy to display, which is one reason I’m thinking bracelet.  The first time I really notice how great a tattoo could look was when I saw a picture of the bracelet Janis Joplin had done. Up to that time I was still just drawing a little green flower doodle on my ankle. 

If you have visible ink, where do you have it, and why did you choose to have it visible rather than hidden?  I’d like to hear what other people think about this particular issue.  And I’m still mulling over my designs.

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By infmom, December 7, 2009 12:02 pm

Thanks, everyone, for your comments over the past few weeks.  I know I’ve been very slow to respond to them.  This time, though, I have a better excuse than usual.

Every November, there is a writers’ challenge called National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo for short).  The goal is to write 50,000 words in 30 days.  I had taken note of this before and had even bought their official handbook No Plot? No Problem! last year.  But somehow I’d never thought I’d be equal to the challenge.

This year, I decided to take the plunge.

Years ago, I started writing a novel.  I think I actually have a beat-up floppy disk with an early draft from sometime like 1990.  I got it mostly finished and realized it was terrible, so I went back and started rewriting it and adding in all kinds of things, like, oh, an actual plot and more characters.  But Life Happened and I never actually finished the rewrite.  But after I’d chugged along for a while I realized that it wasn’t a story for one book, it was a story for a book and a sequel.  So I had a general idea of what the sequel would be.  But I’d never written a word of it because I figured it’d be a good idea to finish the first book first.

During the month of November 2009,  I wrote the sequel. Without having finished the first book.  Despite having been flattened by an attack of vertigo that kept me sidelined for nearly a week…   I finished the book, at about 53,000 words.  Of course it still needs work (that’s a given) but for the first time in my life I actually finished writing a novel.

Concentrating on that, however, took about all the writing energy I had.  So my blogs got neglected more than usual (as I’m sure my readers have noticed).  Now I’ve had time to breathe a bit, so let’s get back to talking about tattoos, why don’t we? 

Tomorrow I’ll start another series on holiday gifts for multicolored people.  Stay tuned.

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By infmom, July 31, 2009 11:40 pm

As I mentioned in the last post, it’s been hot lately in Los Angeles.  This means I am almost always wearing a shirt that shows off at least part of my swirly-stars tattoo over my right collarbone.  People notice it and often ask me what the rest of it looks like, and it’s easy to show off.

That often leads to conversations about tattoos, or getting tattoos, or the other person’s ink, which is all to the good.   One of the receptionists at our veterinerians’ office has a star tattoo that looks a lot like mine, so we were instant friends. 

The other day, as we were checking out at the grocery store, the cashier noticed my stars and we got to talking about a tattoo she’s planning to get soon, that has a lot of personal meaning for her.  She’s really looking forward to the experience.  After we finished the conversation and walked on, my husband made the suggestion that it would be a good idea for me to have business cards with the URL of this place, so I could invite people to come have a look.  He was right!  That definitely falls into the category of “Why didn’t I think of that?”

I started designing cards, using a business-card-design app I’ve had for years, but after I’d messed around with it a while I realized that to do justice to a multicolored design I really should get the cards professionally printed on paper that’s better than you can buy at the office supply store.

Which leads me to tell you about a company called MOO. Ayear or so ago, they opened up a LiveJournal, and offered a free package of MiniCards to other LiveJournal writers.  I took them up on that, getting a nifty design with my cat Caliban’s eyes on them.  I still have a few of those left, because I like them so much I have been hoarding them.  I thought the MiniCard size would be perfect to carry around in a pocket and hand out to fellow ink admirers, and when I discovered they had a beautiful multicolored design with a triskele in the center, I was sold.  I also ordered a plastic keychain case to carry the cards in so they won’t get crunched up in my pocket or purse.

MOO is located in the UK, but they can now ship from within the USA as well (and if they’d for pity’s sake open up an office in Los Angeles I’d be first in line to apply for a job) so I should have the cards in hand next week.  Can’t wait!

I wish this had dawned on me earlier, because my stars are a good conversation-starter and it’d be even better if someone with whom I’d been talking could come here and say hello.   Onward and upward!

If you’d like to check out MOO for yourself, they offer a free sample pack of business cards.  Go here and scroll down the page, you’ll see where to click. If you get some, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.

photo credit: FiveAcres

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By infmom, July 9, 2008 12:55 pm

In my last post I talked about my mom’s reaction to my tattoos. And how I found out that getting inked runs in the family.

Things are substantially different between me and my daughter, lemme tellya. My daughter has two tattoos, an elaborate knotwork circle on her left leg (designed by a former Significant Other) and an
armband she designed herself, that includes her great-grandmother’s totem animal, the red-tailed hawk.

Individually and collectively, she and I occasionally get asked what the other thinks about her tattoos. I know that a lot of parents (of all ages) are like mine and won’t countenance inking, and many’s the kid who waits only long enough to be barely legal to hit the nearest tattoo parlor in defiance of Mom and Dad. The down side to this is that kids end up with designs they’ve barely thought through (if they’ve thought it through at all) and some of the so-there-parents ink I’ve seen has been, well, truly unfortunate. The kind of thing the kid’s going to quietly go get erased just as soon as he or she is out of the house.

I am happy to say, though, that the situation is not like that between my daughter and me. She liked my tattoos and she wanted some of her own. She waited, somewhat impatiently, till she was of legal age… and then she and I went to the fabulous Zulu Tattoo and got inked together.

And then a couple years later we did it again. That, I think, is mother-daughter bonding at its finest.

My daughter says that if I go get inked again, she has to go too. I think that’s a fair bargain. I just wonder if I’ll be able to keep my part of it sometime in the future.

photo credit: bionicteaching

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By infmom, February 3, 2007 3:04 pm

I think I was sixteen when I first decided I wanted to get a tattoo. We lived in a little armpit town called Beatrice (bee-ATT-ris) Nebraska in those days. Not only was there no tattoo parlor in town, I suspect anyone who tried to open one up would have been ridden out of town on a rail.

Had to content myself with drawing on my skin in green ink. Behind my inner left ankle, where it wouldn’t be seen by the Enforcers of the Dress Code. (Our high school principal was a dead ringer for Mussolini and ran the school with about as heavy a hand.) If I had had any clue how to make that design permanent in those days, I probably would have. Would I have been embarrassed by it in later years? Good question.

The design itself would have been obviously homebrewed (a cartoon of a flower in a pot, which I still like to doodle to this day–dunno what that means). But during the 60s and 70s it certainly would have been a mark of distinction. Where I lived, people didn’t DO that. I liked being different then. I like being different now.

So, in the mid 1990s, I read a newspaper article about the only tattoo artist in town. We’ve long since left the armpit of the midwest behind and we’re living in the LA megalopolis, so it’s surprising that at that time there was only one tattoo artist in this town. I read the article. I liked the guy’s attitude. I said “When I get my tattoo, he’s doing it.”

Of course, in those days I had no money for something like that. I was working for barely more than minimum wage as a supervisor in customer service in a big-box store. However, the store actually came to the rescue (not that they knew what they were doing). They had a contest for “friendliest store in the chain,” and the company offered to hand $50 to every employee in the store that won.

Our store won. I had $50 that I hadn’t planned on having. I went to get my tattoo.

All I wanted was seven small stars, for personal reasons too complicated to explain here. The artist thought that over, decided it was too blah and undistinguished, and drew me a new design. Seven stars, with a swirl of multicolored dots around them. I thought it over. Said yes. He quoted me a price. I went off to the ATM.

While I was sitting in the chair (and believe me, I looked every day of my 46 years) people wandered in and out of the store. They’d see me. They’d drop their teeth. Truthfully, I can’t remember when I’ve had more fun. The tattoo hurt, but not enough to change my genuine joy.

“Now you’re one of us,” said the artist when he’d finished.

Yeah baby. I sure am.

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