Tattoo Argument

Every time I bring this up, it turns into a nasty fight.

My boyfriend, an ex-USMC man, has two tattoos. One is extremely prominent, all across his shoulder and down his bicep. I mean, it's huge. It bleeds through light-colored shirts and often pokes out from under his short sleeves. But here's the thing: I don't care. It's not his tattoos that are an issue.

It's mine.

I have two. One rather large one around my ankle, and a smaller one (about the diameter of a Coke can) in my groin area. Since I'm not really a mini-skirt kind of person, the one on my ankle doesn't show unless I want it to and there are only a few members of the club of people who have seen the other one.

But I want more!

I have a gallery of tattoos I've designed. Some were created digitally and stored on my computer, but some are drawings I've created and modified off and on. I'm not one of those idiots that walks in some tattoo shop at 1am on a Friday and is like, "Oh, look! That's so cute! I'll get that! Right now!" I have two tattoo artists, depending on what kind of work I want done. I work with them to take my tattoo from the on-paper stage to a design that is workable as a tattoo. I don't just draw one up and decide to go get it - I wait! I sat on my first design for 5 years before I did it. Not out of fear, but out of confidence. I wanted to be sure that what I liked today, I'd like later.

And it worked. Years later, and no regrets. Except that I didn't do it sooner!

So the ongoing fight is that I have about 3 more tattoos that I want. Two of them have already been mentally placed; I know where I want them to go. One, I still can't quite figure it out. The thing is, I want them to be places where I can keep them covered if I want to, but uncover them if I want to.

Is that what I really want to do? Hell, no. I want a full sleeve on one arm, and a half sleeve on the other. Why? Can't say. I just do. What I do know is that I am not in a position to do that. Yet. Maybe some day.

For now, I have to think about my *gags* professional future. While tattoos are becoming more and more acceptable in my line of work, if they're too ghetto, suggestive, or prolific, they are still kind of frowned upon and may inhibit my chances at a promotion. And trust me, I need the money.

In the meantime, I'm planning out where the other ones could go, and I get a lecture from my boyfriend about how he regrets his, and he wishes he hadn't done it, and how he doesn't want a trashy woman, and so on. Well, buddy, I hate to say it, but if you didn't want a trashy woman, you probably shouldn't have picked me! I mean, really. I don't think The Boy really knows the real me. If he did, he'd probably shit himself. And I'm not a big fan of hypocrites, either, so who the fuck is he to lecture me on body art, when he's got more ink on that one arm than I do on my whole body?

I can really only see two reasons for not tatting yourself all up: professional limitations, and children. I'm sorry, but I just don't think it's a good idea to look like a wall of graffiti if you plan on having kids. The whole "role model" stance is a weak one, so I can't really use it, but that's kind of how I feel. I just think of how it impacts kids and, well, I don't know...I just think it looks sleazy when Mom and Dad are sporting all kinds of ink (i especially love the gang stuff and the neck tattoos) and toting around Little Johnny and Little Janey and I just can't help but think, "Gee...how white trash can you get?" Judgmental, much?! I know it's wrong. But that's what I think.

That being said, let me also mention that I am childless by choice and plan on keeping it that way. So no, I'm not being hypocritical in that, either.

Perhaps my biggest problem is that The Boy seems to think that now he's grown up (what's that mean, really?) and wants to try to lead a "normal" life. I think he seems to think that it's time to act a certain way and look a certain way and do a certain thing because of his age and stage of life. But I'm older than The Boy. I've tried that path already. It didn't work for a multitude of reasons, but ultimately it failed because that's not who I am.

I am the cussing, high-strung, speeding and swerving, staying out late on the weekends watching bands in a bar, dyed and bleached hair, tattoo-inked, loudmouthed, ripped jeans, I-can-sleep-when-I'm-dead kind of girl. And I just can't be anyone else.