BIRD TATTOO

At age 45 I got my first and last tattoo. People tend to collect them like stickers. It used to be unique to have one. Now it’s more uncommon to not have any. I’m determined to be unusual in a way that doesn’t register as abnormal, so I have just one and will never get another. I hadn’t decided what to get, so I made an appointment which would provide a deadline. Finley had drawn a picture from an American Folk art book on my arm a year before and I liked it, so I brought in the book for the consultation. Once I showed him the design he asked if there were other designs in the book. That was pretty subtle. Then he asked why I picked this one. I said I’d always wanted a tattoo but could never settle on anything because I’d find something I loved and then didn’t like it as much later on. “I don’t love this one now, so I’m not going to lose interest over time.” 

When I had my most recent MRI, the woman getting me ready to go into the machine asked me why I had a bird tattoo. I said I just liked the design, but that I also loved birds and had a parakeet. She asked a question about parakeets and I started to explain that we used to have two and they’re happier in pairs. . .

It was time to get started. She cut me off by saying, “I was just making conversation.”

It took over two hours to have the tattoo done. Part of it wasn’t awful, but at moments it felt like a scalpel was slicing my arm open. The entire time I recalled every experience I’ve had with physical pain. The most awful memory was gum grafting. I’m a maniac tooth-brusher and have caused recession. Buy extra-soft toothbrushes!

I love how much I feel part of a club when I’m in a tattoo parlor/piercing salon. I wish I could find a hair salon with the same vibe of instant belonging. I wish I did want tons of tattoos because then I’d get to spend more time there. I only had one patch of skin on my body without moles and that property is now occupied.