All inked up

Ink. Tats. Tattys. Tattoos, or whatever else you choose to call them. I have a few, and thanks to a comment the other day I thought I'd formally introduce you to them.

The one that started it all - Summer 2005. I had known for awhile that I wanted a tattoo but I couldn't narrow it down. Summer 2005 was my last summer of being at home before going away to UC Santa Cruz. I was excited but scared to death. As a kid my parents had taken us down to Natural Bridges State Park to visit and learn about the monarch butterfly migration that happens every fall. So, in a way, it was natural for my first piece to be a monarch.

In 2006 my sister turned 18... so we decided to celebrate by getting sister tattoos. I drove home for the weekend and we headed over to Berkeley's Telegraph Ave to some of the tattoo studios there. We decided to get something simple... matching hearts. Mine is on my back/lower shoulder and hers is on her hip.

In 2002 after FH and  I had gotten together we started traveling with his family toward the end of the year. The first year it was Los Angeles and Palm Springs. The next year was Hawaii, followed by Mexico, and then many more trips to Hawaii. After one particular trip to the grand island of Maui his sister and I got henna tattoos. Upon coming home I realized that I liked it so much I decided to get it tatooed on me... and so came out my plumeria flower.

Most likely my favorite and most meaningful tattoo was my last one. My grandpa passed away in December of 2007. I had decided on the day he passed that I was going to get a tattoo for him but it took me months to try and pick exactly what I wanted. I knew it was going to be a flower... but what kind? He had been a natural green thumb - his front and back yard was filled with orchids, roses, an apple tree, blossoms of every kind. And then it dawned on me - what did I see everytime I rang the doorbell? A bird of paradise. So I marched off to the tattoo studio again. I sang along to the oldies radio station and was told that I was an old soul. And when I saw the end result, I cried. I cried a lot.

The above picture sits with the flowers and cards and other small trinkets at my grandpa's grave. It hurt like hell.. but in a way, it was a bit of a healing process.

Do I have plans for more? Heck, I'd love a few more.... Rosie's paw print, how my parents sign their cards to me near my heart... but... we shall see what the future holds.

Do you have any tattoos or other work on your body? Share!