This was the blog of an Eloise wannabe and her 2 roustabout kitties as they work on a book deal in the City of Lights, giggling all the way. Now it's the blog of an Eloise wannabe planning her next escape (California, Canadia?) with 2 other kitties--still working, still giggling.
About 5 years ago, after deliberating for years about what and where, I finally settled on my tattoo: a pin-up/can-can girl (wearing red FMPs, of course), with the Eiffel Tower in the background. On my left bicep. I figured that was a good place to have it--I could show it off if I wanted to, hide it when I needed to.
Yes, there was some pain (mainly it felt like being repeatedly stung by rubber bands) but I sucked it up a lot more than the tough-guy cop getting a tramp stamp next to me. Unfortunately for him, my artist was female, his artist was female, and he wasn't getting any luvin' from any of us. While he moaned and groaned, and his artist rolled her eyes, I smiled at my artist and said "I'm good, no need for a break." (Yes, I'm aware getting work done on the bicep is usually less painful than the small of the back, but he still wasn't getting any luvin'.)
I haven't regretted the tattoo for an instant--although the morning after it was done, I woke up, saw the tattoo out of the corner of my eye, and freaked out because I'd forgotten. I do keep it covered at work, although it's faintly visible when I wear kurtas (quite often in summer) and peeks out from beneath some t-shirts. The reaction is always the same--people do a double-take then want to see it. Usually, the men grin (like my osteopath the first time he saw it, though it took him a few sessions before he asked about it), though some of the (French) women wonder why I have a woman on my arm. Doesn't surprise me. They can be so competitive that they don't understand the concept of celebrating the feminine. Tattoos are still pretty rare here, though I'm seeing more and more--along with piercings. Yesterday I saw a whole van full of Maori guys with their distinctive designs covering their arms and got a chill.
I don't know anyone else at my work who has body art, but the L.A. Times has an interesting article today on the changing views to tats in the workplace. I laughed when I read that the unadorned consider the adorned to be both less intelligent and less sexy. Um, guess what? In a lot of instances, back atcha! Ok, sure, there were the 3 slags in my high school who thought they were the bomb for hacking 4 x's into their ankle then filling them in with hunter green ink. They're the same 3 slags who laughed when they learned my horse's name was Ajax, because that was a cleaning product. Um, hello, mythological Greek hero, Homer's Iliad, anyone? (Although, to be honest, he already had the name when we got him and he was as far from mythological hero as a horse can get, though he did run amuck with Kurt on his back one day while we watched, alternating between horror and hysterical laughing.)
But I do often feel a kinship with those with art--especially art that mean's something personal to the wearer. That's why I took so long with mine, I wanted to be sure. As soon as I got it, I wanted Elvis (Aloha from Hawaii style) on my right shoulderblade and cherries on my ankle. I'm still contemplating what to get done next year in San Francisco. I was thinking of turning the Eiffel Tower into the Golden Gate Bridge, then having Elvis cover my left shoulder, above (not over the top of) the pin-up girl. That somehow feels appropriate. But I'm still undecided, mainly because there are so many gorgeous, girlie designs now, in fabulous colors. Gone are the navy blue, red, and hunter green of old. I especially love the Mexican señorita designs, and could very well end up like Jimmy Buffet in Margaritaville:
I don't know the reason
I stayed here all season
Nothin to show but this brand new tattoo
But it's a real beauty
A Mexican cutie
How it got here I haven't a clue
Back to tats at work: a few weeks I was watching NBC news (I think) and they had a piece on appropriate dress in the workplace. The reporter was talking to the woman who was in charge of enforcing the dress rule for a large company.
"What's not appropriate?" the reporter asked.
"Bra straps showing, bare backs, tattoos," the woman said.
"But...isn't that a tattoo I saw on your back?"
"Um..."
Busted!
Tats I like the look of:
Loving the detail on this dragonfly, but it's too large for me:
And here's a great tattoo of Elvis, Aloha from Hawaii:
But I think I'd rather get one designed from this shot because, you know, he looks fucking gorgeous:
Or maybe even hanging loose:
Decisions, decisions, mah head is spinnin' :-)
