How I got my first tattoo at 38
I was and am a punk rock kid at heart. Well, really a 3rd Wave Ska-Punk kid. (But that’s probably a bit esoteric for most folks.) I am also a bundle contradictions. More about that in another post tentatively titled “owning it.” But my style has always been a blend of establishment hipster and anti-establishment punk. At one point, I had my ear, tongue, eyebrow, and labret pierced. Not to mention the orange hair twisted up in spikes with old-school flat top wax. Needless to say, I’ve always wanted a tattoo. But, I also know my own limitations. So I instituted a rule. If I loved something enough to put on my body, I had to wait five years. If I still loved it that much after five years I would get it. But through my twenties everything seemed fleeting. I didn’t want to end up with a sports logo, or a band, or an ultimate frisbee related tattoo that I would outgrow. Which was a good idea because I’ve more or less outgrown most of those things. But I had an idea when my son was born in 2009. I loved him. I would alway love him. So I set to thinking about what I wanted the tattoo to be… and took five years doing it. By the time he turned five I had the idea nailed down. I wanted: His name in a cursive script that reminded my of my grandmother, who he was partly named after, In the form of a punk rock patch (that looks like real stitching) that is an ode my my punk rock ethos and esthetic In blue and white that also reminds me of my grandmothers wedgewood china On my left forearm, where I’ve always wanted it so it can be my…