It’s funny. When you start looking back on your life, you begin to see instances from your childhood that seem like clues to what lies ahead. I had that happen to me not that long ago. I began to remember when I was six years old and saw a woman with a tattoo for the first time. Before that, I had only seen men with them. I was instantly captivated when I saw her at the apartment complex swimming pool where we lived.

She was sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet hanging in the water, talking with a friend. Her cigarette plumed smoke around her Barbie-like hair. Her bathing suit was a black, strapless one piece number that looked like it had been made from my uncle’s leather jacket. Regardless, I thought she was so bad ass. I convinced myself, at that moment, that she rode a motorcycle; not on the back, but drove her own. Why wouldn’t she? She has a tattoo and wears a leather bathing suit.

The tattoo was of a single red rose with a thorny green stem. The rose sprouted from the left side of her bathing suit, on her chest. I couldn’t stop staring at it. At the time, I thought it was huge. Looking back, it was probably two inches long. It doesn’t matter because it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I would swim back and forth near her so I could check it out. I wanted to see every detail of the rose. My brother, Chris, tried snagging me away with a spirited game of Marco Polo. He even said I could be Marco. Nope, I don’t have time for such non-bad ass games. Sadly, she went home and so did we.

Over the next few days, I would try to draw the tattoo on paper. I made many attempts to match the red and green of her rose as best as I could. I drew it over and over to try and make it perfect.  I cut out one of the roses as best I could so there would be no white paper showing. I sneaking into my mom’s room, I snagged one of her tube tops from her dresser drawer and put it on as if it were my own leather bathing suit. I took the rose and taped it to my chest and had it coming out of the tube top just like her tattoo. I made sure to hide the tape, of course. There’s nothing bad ass about tape sticking out from behind your tattoo.

In front of the mirror in my room, I checked myself out. I didn’t look right. Something was missing. Aha!  I grabbed a crayon and began to puff on it like it was a cigarette. Now I looked like her. Yah, I gotta tattoo. So what? I have a motorcycle, too because I’m bad ass, man.

When I wasn’t being a miniature biker babe, I was very much into playing house. I was having a tea party and needed one more guest. I went to my closet and grabbed my Raggedy Ann doll. I wasn’t fond of the outfit she was wearing, so I decided to change her. Now, I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed this before, but when I changed Raggedy Ann’s clothes, I saw it. There, right on her chest…..a tattoo! How come I hadn’t noticed it before? I was so excited; first the lady at the poll and now this? But wait! There’s more…..

Hefty Smurf. There, on his little stuffed blue arm, a heart tattoo. It was similar to Raggedy Ann’s heart, but his was manlier because it was on his bicep and it had an arrow through it. That’s right up there with the lady from the pool. Hefty Smurf was bad ass! It wasn’t long before my cluster of Hefty Smurf’s grew. I couldn’t get enough of his tattoo.

 

Were these little snippets from my childhood a glimpse into my future? Possibly. It’s kind of fun to think so. Was it Raggedy Ann and the pool lady that made me decide to have my first tattoo done my chest? No. I didn’t get a rose and the placement was so I was able to see it while my parents couldn’t. Then there’s Hefty Smurf….is he Augie?????