A ‘marked’ change in thinking about tattoos

Pin It

Or, how I learned to stop worrying and love my new ink

By Kelly Hockenberry, Columnist, The Times

UTKellyColumn copyUmmmm, sit down, friends. I need to confess a little something. Remember how I wrote about tattoos (not once, but TWICE) and how I never much cared for them?

Well………………………………….

I had a lunchtime margarita (OK, two, but who’s counting?) during a weekend trip to NYC with my besties and left Manhattan with a teeny, tiny memento. 

I KNOW! I KNOW!

Let me explain myself. (I have never been at a loss for words before. I’m actually sweating)

The thing is, I don’t have a profound answer. Mid life crisis? Maybe. I do think a part of me wanted to do something completely out of my comfort zone. I mean, I’m a good girl. Always have been (pinky promise Mom & Dad). I never rebelled. Like, not at all.

tattoo

Before (left), during (center) and after (right).

So, when my girlfriend Patti peer pressured me into walking into a tattoo parlor across the street from the Port Authority, I have to say, it was sorta thrilling…in a terrifying kind of way.

It smelled antiseptic, which instantly put me at ease. Plus, our tattoo artist was a young, cute woman who had no visible tatts or piercings! She was totally patient with me as she reduced the size of the heart shape I chose again and again until I was comfortable (meaning that it could be covered easily by my Marc Jacobs boyfriend watch)

It hurt. Although, I have exaggerated this part a bit so as to make my boys somewhat fearful. Not real confident of my success on that front.

People have been surprised by my decision. There has been a lot of gasping. I’ve been asked for the “meaning” of my tattoo. Hmmmm. Well, it’s a heart that is small and black (not unlike the organ inside my body) but open to change….

Obviously.

Happy Weekend!

Share this post:

Related Posts

Comments are closed.