I got another tattoo a few days ago(I have four now). This is now at the base of my neck or top of my back depending how you look at it. It was a 30th birthday present from my wonderful husband. I know alot of people get butterflies, but I wasn't trying to be original. I feel like I have been in a cocoon for a few years now in my feminity and artistic expression. My life has been consumed by Motherhood and all its responsiblities. I am still smack in the middle with a three month old, but somehow turning 30 and having my last (I think :) child has helped me to feel like I am finally emerging. I have been waiting. Waiting with God, waiting with art, waiting with what I am going to find purpose in this next stage of life. I am now starting to find it. I want to make prints, I want to help women grow in faith, I want to love my husband, I want to nuture my daughters, I want to celebrate my girls (my term for friends), I just am finding wings to move into this stage of life. That is why I got a butterfly.
But, tattoo people are funny. We walk in and I have an appointment with Ian. I found him at a local tattoo show because I wanted a new artist. Ian is not in yet. Fine, I am early. I nurse my baby and wait. 15 minutes later a guy comes up and says he wants my reference piece so he can draw it. OK. Then another 10 minutes later a guy comes up and says he's going to do the work because Ian is in jail. Jail? I mean, this is a nice shop. It's new, it's respectable-it's not what all our parents are afraid of when they hear tattoo parlor. It's upscale. You would think they would have told me when I walked in. Tattoo people are funny.
