It’s Monday. Generally the day I tell you all about the wonderful weekend that was.
Except this past weekend was marred by me getting drunk and gross, and I’d really rather not talk about it. Let’s just say I hope the lovely ladies on Tracey’s Bachelorette forgive me for being a foolish mess; that my antics didn’t ruin their night; and that I never, ever, ever do that again.
*sigh* So embarrassed.
Anyways. On to a different topic. One that will probably make my mother squirm even MORE than me discussing my inability to hold my liquor.
I want to get a tattoo. And I want one SOON.
This is an item that I put on my 101 List, but one that I seriously doubted would ever happen.
I think I have talked about this before on the blog, but in case you don’t already know the story…
I never in a million years thought I’d ever want to get a tattoo. It was just not something that interested me, not even during the late-teen craze when many of my friends were getting them.
The thought of being an old lady with wrinkly skin and having a butterfly tattooed on me somewhere just didn’t turn my crank, y’know?
Then, the dark days of summer 2010 came along. My cousin Jeff passed away tragically. That horrible week, a few of the cousins started talking about getting a tat in his memory – perhaps a green ribbon (for organ donation; we wore them in his memory at his wake and funeral), with his initials. My mom was adamantly against the idea, and so was my aunt (Jeff’s mom).
I was still torn on what to do about it when two weeks later my cousin Troy passed away, also suddenly and unexpectedly.
In those numb days, reeling with shock and grief, I remember having one very clear and sobering thought: Well, good thing I didn’t go ahead and get that tattoo. I can’t just get a new one every time someone I love dies.
I pretty much gave up the tat idea… until I saw that my cousin Tiffany got “Forever Young” tattooed on one of her shoulders.
And I loved it.
It holds a lot of meaning for me. Of course, the obvious is that my last name is Young. But also, since Troy passed away, the lyrics of Bob Dylan’s song “Forever Young” have become very meaningful – I sometimes literally think the song was written for him. Not only would it be in honour of him and our family name, but also for Jeff, who, because of his untimely death at age 28, will also sadly remain “forever young”.
And then there’s my dad. He’s the reason I am a Young. It would definitely be in his memory, too. (I know, Mom – I know what you’re thinking…You’re thinking Dad would’ve HATED me getting a tattoo. But remember when I showed him Tiff’s “Forever Young”? He liked it. He said he wouldn’t mind that…)
These thoughts have swirled, died down and resurfaced, numerous times over the past year and a half.
Then, last Friday night, my friend Sharon took the plunge and got her daughter’s name and birth date permanently inked on her foot. Sharon’s excitement over her tattoo has renewed my interest.
I’m going to do this. I just need to decide where to put it…how big it should be…which font to choose…where to go to get it done.
I’m thinking just above my right ankle, somewhere that isn’t completely hidden all the time, but that isn’t overly-prominent. I want it be fairly small, in a classic but attractive script. I’ll need to do some research on where to go, based on reputation, cost, etc.
I have no idea how much it might hurt. My mother might disown me.
But I think I’ve put enough thought into this. It’s not a whim, and it’s not something insignificant. It means a lot to me.
Now I just need to do it.