I met Augie just after Thanksgiving of 1991. By that Christmas, I had my first tattoo. I had a crystal ball being held by dragon claws put on my, let’s say the fleshier part of my chest. Inside of it has a beautiful mountain range with the ocean crashing against it and a sunset shinning down.  I thought it had a good balance of badass and pretty; edgy, yet subtle. Looking back, I should’ve put a lot more thought into placement....who knew that over time the circle would turn into an oval?

I came home all proud and cocky that I had this tattoo. I was inked! I was now a part of the tattoo community. I strutted in the house and announced to my parents what I had done. I expected them to be like, Wow! Cool, Aimee! You’re such a rebel. And I’d be all, Yah, I know! That’s not what happened. They both thought I had completely lost my mind. “What were you thinking? Don’t you realize that those things are permanent?”

A blind man could see that my mom was way madder than my dad. She was full on pissed off! She hadn’t met him yet and as I said before, she had a negative view of the tattoo world and the people that reside there. I was now one of those people. She saw it as me taking that step over to the dark side. She was so angry that she stopped speaking to me. This made for a rather uncomfortable holiday season, let me tell you. Fortunately, it didn’t last long.

Life went back to normal after about two weeks, thankfully. We were talking again and everything was fine. Little did she know, I was hit with the tattoo bug. I concussed! Put it this way, in a span of about six months, I was sporting five or so tattoos and had completely wiped out my savings account. And to top it all off, I kept every bit of it a secret from them for close to a year. Keeping the money thing secret wasn’t that difficult; trying to hide all of those tattoos….now that was a chore.

For those who have been tattooed before or know someone who has tattoos, you know that the healing process requires applying an ointment to the area for a few weeks. The ointment Augie had his clients use back then was A&D Ointment. That stuff reeks. If you’ve ever been around a kid with diaper rash, you’re probably familiar with that horrific smell.

My bedroom would permeate with this stuff every few weeks. And each time my mom would ask me, “What’s that smell coming from your bedroom?” I told her with freakish ease that it was a new lotion I was trying. She suggested I return it and get my money back. Down the line, when she’d smell it again, she would quizzically ask me why I hadn’t returned that nasty lotion. I would laugh it off and tell her that it didn't bother me. Liar, liar, pants on fire!

It wasn’t just the smell either. My clothes showed signs of being tattooed. The one I have on my back would stick to my t-shirts at night and leave a perfect imprint of the design (a wolf, howling at the moon) on the inside of it. I knew I couldn’t let her wash the shirts for obvious reasons and I hated doing laundry, so there was only one thing to do....throw my shirts out. That’s teenage logic for ya!

I resorted to tank tops to sleep in, but soon discovered the transfer of ink on my sheets. I couldn’t throw those out; she would certainly notice sheets missing and I had no money to buy my own because I spent all my money on tattoos. I thought for sure I was busted. Nope. She either didn’t notice or didn’t think anything of it.

The pungency of the ointment permiated tenfold that summer. That's when Augie started tattooing the tiger on my leg. This is the one that goes from my rear end to just above my knee that I mentioned earlier. This thing was so big that I went through the largest tube of ointment that the pharmacy sold by the time it was finished.  

I was convinced that my cover was going to be blown when I started wearing only pants when it was 90 degrees outside to hide it. I also walked with a limp after each tattoo session. My leg was so sore from being tattooed five to six hours at a time. My parents would ask me if my leg was okay and I would just tell them that I slept funny or I fell, always reassuring them that I would be fine. This cycle continued every two weeks for about two months.

I eventually came clean and confessed to my parents about all the tattoos I had gotten after they had met Augie and I was positive they wouldn’t get mad at him for tattooing me. Plus, I was getting real tired of hiding my tattoos. The tattoos didn't bother them as much as me hiding my dwindling bank account. That disappointed them more than anything.
 

It’s kind of funny though, to this day, the smell of A&D Ointment makes my mom’s stomach cringe. I actually can’t stand it either. Thankfully, the ointment company now makes an unscented version. Man, if they had that back then, that whole ordeal would’ve been a helluva lot easier! Well, at least a lot less smelly.