Welcome to My Life, Tattoo*

I'm not saying it's a fact, internets, but it's possible I have a tattoo problem.

Maybe.

I know of several reputable, talented artists, so fortunately quality is not a problem. And I have a rule (more of a guideline, really) that no ink shall become part of me until I've considered it for a year. If, after that time, it seems like a good idea, then it's a go.

After all, I'm choosing to literally make the image a part of myself. To me, I'm invoking a specific kind of energy or trait—a very symbolic process. A pretty image isn't enough. It has to be meaningful. Of course, that's just my standard for myself. I'm all about the Underpants Rule. If your ideas are different, good on ya. Be the boss of your own underpants. That's just what I need to be happy with my tattoo-related choices.

BAM! Lucky 7 beats Boobonic Plague!

Granted, two of my tattoos are ones I wish I had never had to choose... see, when you get radiation as part of cancer treatment, they need to ensure they're treating the same area consistently—no more, no less. So for Boobonic Plague, they do scans to pinpoint the tumor, then line you up on a grid and tattoo a couple dots around your middle. The treatment room has lasers coming from the walls and ceiling, and they line up the dots with those lasers before they zap you. Kind of genius, but then besides being stuck with a Janky Boob^TM you have these jacked up, stupid dots. Ugh.

Year 2 Survivor Tat

I chose to turn mine into something else, transforming this shit that happened to me into symbols of my victory. After I got the 1-year All Clear, I turned one dot into the one pip on a pair of pink dice rolling a lucky 7. Screw you, cancer; I win! 

The next year, I got a four leaf clover wrapped in a pink ribbon, because all in all I know I was really lucky. Sure, epic levels of suck were involved, but there was so much more suck avoidance.

Fire/Water Yin Yang

So when Cirra showed up at 10:30pm on the Thursday before Christmas with a bottle of 10-year-old port asking, "Where do you usually go to get tattoos?" more ink was kind of a foregone conclusion. Luckily, I had several ideas knocking around in my brain for more than 12-months, so while it was impulsive, it wasn't unplanned.

Christmas Tattooing. What? I think it's a great tradition.

ANYway... last weekend, Cirra came to visit again, as an artist at one of my favorite shops was working up a large custom design for her. And since tattoos are apparently an exponential thing—like, the more I get, the faster I want new ones—I decided to invoke Music. The symbol has been on my mind for quite some time, and since I'm a music-based life form (MBLF) it was rather a foregone conclusion:

It's in that place and that shade of blue because the back of the neck is the location of the 5th chakra, the energy center associated with self-expression. Since making music makes me happiest, it's a natural fit.

As far as impulsive decisions go, this one didn't suck.

Now let's see if the invoking mojo does anything interesting.
(Yes, Cluegirl, this is where I hear your voice in my head: "What could possibly go wrong?" Whee!)







* This is a reference to a song by The Who, though in retrospect I realize it rather sounds like I'm letting a diminutive TV star into my home...