Ink

I had wanted a tattoo since I was in college, but like most folks, I didn't know what I wanted or where I wanted it.

Back then, the only person I knew with a tat was a girl studying criminal justice. I sorta had a crush on her, but I also suspected her to be a lesbian. Her tattoo was a ying-yang symbol on her ankle, and her rationalization was that if she, in the line of duty, were dismembered, the medical examiner could still identify her body by virtue of the tattoo on her ankle.

My reasons were a little less practical. I was idealistic in the sense that I wanted some sort of meaning attached to it. Not only did I want the tattoo itself to mean something, I wanted to be able to look at it and not be reminded of a drunken escapade or an intolerable boyfriend-of-the-moment. I wanted to be reminded of a good place in my life, remembering where I was, mentally and physically, when I added that permanent design to my body.

So I waited. And it took me til I was 30 to get there. Virginia and I had just gotten back from OBX the first time. I had just celebrated my 30th birthday. And I was single, free of any emotional attachments to any negative feelings or hateful boyfriends. And tattoos were suddenly cool.

After a few trips to the studio to flip through the three-ring binders filled with photocopied sheets and photos of sample design work, I decided on mine. I wanted the Libra pictogram on the small of the back.

It makes sense. I'm definitely a Libra, and Libra rules the lower back and buttocks. After sizing and re-sizing the design on the copier a few times, my tattoo artist was ready to begin work. And perhaps it would have been better had he been a ZZTop-bearded, Harley bear.

But no. Brandon was HAWT. Mid-20s. Clean shaven. Tasteful tribal tattoos snaking up his well-developed forearms. Heavily gelled hair in the gay tiara, and thick-framed Buddy Holley glasses.

The room was set up with the padded chair. He said, "Unbutton your pants and bend over the bar there." I think I was instantly erect.

People always ask, "did it hurt?" Honestly, it was more uncomfortable than painful. The small of my back is somewhat of an erogenous zone for me anyway. And so when the hot tattoo artist passed over a cluster of nerves with a vibrating needle...well I almost launched out of my chair.

Forty-five minutes later, I was officially scarred for life.

And I thought it was rather unique. And then a few weeks later, I found this picture floating around the Internet.

Is there no such thing as an original idea anymore?

So I think I'm ready for the next unoriginal idea. I've got it narrowed down to two locations: my left shoulder or my right hip.

And I've got it narrowed down to two designs:

The Star: Just like this design, only in black and white. Simple, understated, masculine, and I have a plate that I picked up at a Goodwill with the exact same star around the rim.

The Scales: Keeping with the Libra theme on my body, I could add the other symbol.

Also in true Libran fashion, I can't make a decision to save my life.