Under the harvest moon of open mic night at Fat Stan’s, I shared with one of our naturalists that Nana’s passing has me thinking about getting my first tattoo.
I’ve never wanted one, not seriously, but I think there is something to be said about the significance of one tattoo on a body, and the significance of getting such a tattoo in a special place about a special person.
I hate needles, HATE NEEDLES, so much so that simple shots call for breathing exercises and blood tests are tantamount to never eating ice cream again.
She said “Get one” with complete conviction. “Why wouldn’t you get one?”
I said “I hate needles and permanence.”
She said “Everyone hates permanence. People who don’t tell you so are lying.”
I thought about telling her that those people didn’t grow up being told that engaging in sexual intercourse before marriage was tantamount to never eating ice cream again. But in all seriousness, at age 19 I went to a young adult Sunday school class and the teacher had a volunteer male and female but glue in on one piece of pink and blue paper and stick them together. I remember, this woman’s name was Fish actual name Felicia. A youth pastor would be named Fish. And she said “Pull the paper apart. See the pink attached to the blue, and the blue attached to the pink? That’s what sex before marriage does to a person. You walk away from that experience with a little bit of them stuck to you forever.”
I’m still amazed at that lesson. Not that it’s incorrect, but that having someone else’s “color” on you is so anathema that it must be avoided at all costs. What does she think about the influence our parents have on us? They’re “color” is stuck all over me, indelibly and without question.
Back to it: I’ve been cagey specifically about permanence and my body. I don’t worry too much over cutting my hair but I’ve always been good about sunscreen, conservative about sex, and hesitant about tattoos.
But is she right? Does everyone hate permanence? How about people who have children (that’s mostly permanent, to my knowledge), lifetime warranties on lawnmowers and mortgages?
Also- I don’t know that I actually hate permanence. There are a lot of things I’m thrilled are permanent. My first and last time, I’m a big fan of those. I appreciate GPSs and I imagine they will only get more sophisticated. Gravity, wine, best friends, your childhood memories that still make you chuckle. Family. They’re all more or less fixtures, sure they aren’t permanent but I suppose tattoos fade, wrinkle and occasionally get removed just like family.
I don’t think I’ll get one. Except if I get one. Then I’ll have one.
We talked about other things about Nana. I showed her my nails, how Nana and I were wearing the same color nail polish when she passed (that will be permanent) and that she had her pink blanket at the foot of her bed when she exhaled for the last time.
She’s dead, permanently.
She said as I told her about my Nana that she was transported to my experience, to my pain. I wonder if another person can truly be transported to your pain, or if they are purely experiencing their own through the lens of your narrative?
Staring at a corpse is a stark, unbudging reality of permanence.
Maybe people get tattoos to one-up the permanence of death. “Oh yeah? Well I can make a mark on my body that will last just as long as you, death.”
Really, no one thinks about things this much. Let’s be real. They get tattoos because they make them feel something, and they make a commitment to themselves and their bodies that they will carry this ink and all its nostalgia, dignity and significance.
Maybe an “N” for Nana? Except it will read as “N” for Natalie (which is cheese galore). Can an “N” also be an infinity symbol? People are so into the infinity symbols, trendily speaking, but they are so great. I drew them compulsively on my math worksheets in 8th grade.
Also… I’m the PALEST. How good do dark tattoos look on stark white skin?
