I went to Key West and all I got was this tattoo…

Last week, I was working with a school district in North Carolina. Friday afternoon, instead of flying home to Orlando, though, I flew to Key West, where I met Chris and our best couple friends for a long weekend of bad choices (french toast for breakfast and then bathing suits in the afternoon is not a great look, you guys) and really excellent choices… like this one…

I gots me a brand new, shiny tattoo!!! It’s my first one and I am so excited about it! I LOVE IT! It’s on my right wrist, so I see it all day long and every time I do, it just makes me smile. And sometimes downright laugh out loud. Because I can’t believe I actually did it!

I have been planning this tattoo since my 30th birthday eight years ago (or was it seven years ago? How old am I???). I had just come out of the slumps of grief after my dad passed and I was amazed to find that my heart was not bitter or angry, but was instead full of gratitude. I was grateful for the years I had my dad in my life. I was grateful for the way my sister and mom and I had grown through the experience. I was beyond grateful for Chris and the way he loves me. I was grateful for the friends and family who held me up during my darkest times. I was grateful for Jesus and the life I am promised again with my dad one day. I thought what better way to memorialize this experience and the work that God had done on my heart through it than in a tattoo.

But, I’m a big, fat wuss. I no likey needles. I am not a big fan of pain. I also have fairly significant commitment issues. All of which led to the realization that perhaps I was not the tattoo type.

Oh, but how I wanted to be! I think tattoos are beautiful on people. I think they tell stories and mark milestones in lives. I could talk to someone about their tattoos for HOURS. I want to know why they got them, what the story is with them, if they regret them, if things have changed since they got them… it’s like someone put a chapter of their lives in ink right there on their body and I get to read them.

But if you know me at all, you know that my cardigan-wearing, suburban living, family-raising, Jesus-praising, mini-van driving, nerdy self is probably the last likely individual on the planet to get a tattoo. Which I think is why I love it all the more, actually. Because it’s something I wanted to do that didn’t match the rest of me. It was a statement. A change. Something new. BOLD.

So, I knew what tattoo I would get if I ever got one, but the time had never been right. And then, on my flight from North Carolina down to the Keys, I was reading this book (“Present Over Perfect“) and the author talked about how what we love and what defines us may not be what others see in us all the time. And I don’t know, but something about that made me put my book down and think clearly to myself, “I’m going to get that damn tattoo. And I’m going to get it while I’m in the Keys.”

See? I made that decision totally sober, you guys!

I got off the plane in the Keys and took a cab to my hotel, where Chris and my friends met me in the lobby with cheers and drinks in hand, as you do in Key West. We headed immediately out to Mangoes, a bar on Duval Street, in the heart of Key West. I hadn’t even been in the Keys for an hour before I proclaimed to the group, “I’m getting a tattoo this weekend,” which was met with rousing cheers and applause, both from my crew and those sitting around us at the bar, actually… Love that Key West life. 🙂

Ironically (coincidentally? luckily? divinely?), Paradise Tattoo was literally across the street from where we were sitting. So, we paid our tab and walked/stumbled over to the tattoo parlor, where I announced to the guy at the counter that I wanted a tattoo and he responded, “I can help you with that.”

I described what I wanted and he disappeared to a computer for a minute or two while he drew up a draft for me. We talked through some fonts for a minute and then size (it’s actually bigger than I originally wanted, but I’m so glad he convinced me because any smaller and it wouldn’t have been easy to read). And then he introduced me to the owner of the shop, Greg, who would be doing my tattoo. He was the BEST. He was quiet and looked like the old man and the sea and he talked in a low, soothing voice the whole time he worked. We talked about his kids (three in college at UCF and one a fisherman in the Keys), about the history of his shop, about his favorite tattoos, about how I was going to take my tattoo to the PTA meeting and surprise all the mom’s. It was great. (Turns out, more PTA mom’s than not already had tattoos of their own!)

In the middle of my tattoo, my friend, Danielle, decided to get one, too! She got a tiny little paw print on her wrist for her dog, Madison, who they had just put down the week before. It was such a sweet tattoo and a great memory of Mad Dog.

It took about 30 minutes for Greg to complete my tattoo. It hurt like a MOTHER. Apparently, your wrist is one of the more sensitive places to get a tattoo. But I instantly loved it. There were no regrets. Ever. I love it!

My family, however, was not as much in love with it as I was! Here are their responses:

BEAN AND GRACIE: I called them the next day and told them I got a tattoo. Bean sat there for a minute on the phone and then said in a voice of complete disgust, “Why did you do that?” I explained that I had wanted one for the past few years and that I was grateful for all the gifts in my life. “Yeah, but WHY did you do that?” he snapped. Gracie was no better. She said the same thing, “Why did you get a tattoo?” and this was immediately followed by, “Does Nana know?”

MY MOM: My mom has always and forever been against tattoos, amen. Always. When I was growing up, I wasn’t even allowed to write myself reminders on my hands! She and my dad were adamant about keeping your body the way God made it. (I never brought up ear piercings, though I always thought about them when they made that argument…) So, I was a little nervous about how my mom would react. I decided to avoid the situation completely and instead just posted a picture on Facebook. Sure enough, she replied with, “When you meet your dad at the Pearly Gates one day, you’re going to have to hide that from him.” Hahahaha! Later, I talked to her on the phone and we agreed that I was lucky our bodies don’t go to heaven because tattoos are permanent, but not eternal! Hahahaha!

CHRIS: I still don’t know about Chris. He just laughs when he looks at it. I think I shocked him by actually getting one. Being married to me isn’t easy, I’m sure. I come up with all kinds of off-the-wall ideas and things to do all the time. But I think this took it to a whole new level and he still hasn’t really gotten used to it. When I ask him if he likes it, he just laughs and kisses me and says something like, “I like you.” Which I’m going to call a win right now.

GINNY: Full disclosure, my sister has a tattoo. A tiny, small one she got with her sorority sisters in college that can’t be seen in public. We don’t speak of The Tattoo. Mostly because if my dad had ever found out, he would have taken a potato peeler to her (and I’m only partly joking on that). But even after he died, The Tattoo was never mentioned. I even forget that she has one. So, when I showed her mine via text from the Keys, this was her response: “Had you thought about this before? Had you planned for this? I’m so concerned.” And then she sent me this screenshot from my Instagram and replied, “THIS IS WHY I AM CONCERNED!” Ahhh… sisters… hahahaha

I love these people. They are my collective conscious. They are my North Star and my feet on the ground. But – and I say this with all the love in my heart – I don’t care what they think about my tattoo.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

It’s for me. It’s to remind myself every day that there is always something – and usually a LOT of somethings – to be grateful for. It’s so that I remember that even after the greatest loss of my life, God was there with gifts upon gifts of graciousness.

And also, it reminds me that Key West is my spirit animal.