Has anybody seen or heard about the mom who was arrested for tattooing her 11 year old daughter in North Carolina last week? In case you haven’t……this mother, who is a tattoo artist (allegedly), tattooed a small heart on her child’s shoulder because the little girl asked her to do it.

The fact that the child asked to get a tattoo doesn’t bother me a bit. Our girl’s mention they want tattoos all of the time. We just tell them no, daddy isn’t going to jail for you just because you can’t wait until you are 18 years old. It just blows my mind that this mom was okay with this. As a parent, I couldn't imagine saying, "Oh sure, sweetie. A tattoo at your age is a fabulous idea!"

The mom claims to have not known about any tattoo laws in her state. She says she wasn’t aware of the fact that no one under the age of 18 can get tattooed, regardless of parental consent. I have a serious problem with that statement. If we end of finding out that she’s an actual tattoo artist, then there is absolutely no excuse as to why she doesn’t know the laws in her state. It’s your business, your livelihood for goodness sake! That’s like a doctor saying he had no idea there were malpractice laws.

Should the mom go to prison if convicted? I don’t think she should. I see her benefitting more from parenting classes rather than serving any jail time. Being locked up, learning absolutely nothing about being a parent while being away from your daughter, to me, that’s an unnecessary punishment for both of them.

Should the daughter have the heart tattoo removed? I don’t believe it needs to come off; at least not right now. It’s already there; let her make that decision when she’s an adult. She has already endured the pain of getting a tattoo, why put her through the horrific pain of having the tattoo burned off her flesh? It just seems cruel to me. Not to mention the thousands of dollars it can take to remove a tattoo.

Too bad she didn’t read my blog before she decided to do this…..using the Little-Girl-No-Hurt-Tattoos may have been a better choice.

“Tips are welcomed and accepted” reads the sign in Augie’s office. He put the sign up many, many years ago after some of his clients had continually asked him if it was appropriate to give him a tip after being tattooed or pierced. And over the years, clients have taken that sign and interpreted it in their own way.

For the most part, cash is given to him for his tip, which is the customary thing to do. A select few have offered him dogs, lizards, shirts and even shoes as a tip for the services he has provided. Thank goodness he didn’t accept the animals. If he had, we’d be living in a zoo right now.

Bolder clients have gone as far as to offer him various forms sex for the work he has done. Of course those offers are proposed by mostly women, but you may be surprised to know that boyfriends and husbands have offered up their wives and girlfriends to him for their appreciation as well.

“C’mon dude! My old lady will blow your mind,” no pun intended.

I don’t know what’s more distressing…..the girls having no idea that their men have offered them up to Augie or the ones that are standing in the room and  are all for their husband or boyfriend’s suggestion. Either way, I find it bothersome.

Thankfully, Augie shuts those guys down along with all the women that offer up their skills to him. He’s a smart man. I guess if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be a Tattoo Wife right now.

So, what’s the moral of this story? If you want to give him a tip, please stick with cash.

Did you know that the tattoo industry went unregulated in Illinois until 2006? Sadly, it took that long to get policies and regulations in place. I for one am thrilled! Yah, yah I know… it gives the government a chance to put another finger into the ass of humanity, but it needed to happen.

I have seen a steady increase of shops popping up over the years. Where I live there are at least four or five. That’s incredible considering that when Augie and Doc set out to find a place to open back in 1989, they were hit with a lot of “not in my town” responses. It took them close to a year to find a place that would accept them. But, that’s a story for another time.

Several years before the laws were set in place, a tattoo artist on the east coast attempted to regulate the entire country under one set of policies for tattooing and piercing. I did like the idea, but not to the extent that she wanted. She attempted to implement a law that stated all shops have to have a registered nurse on the premises during all operating hours. And it would be at our expense.

We all panicked. We had no clue how much it was going to cost us to have a nurse there. These guys have fluxuating income; how are they supposed to pay him/her at a time when there is no money coming in? How much would it be to insure this person? We wouldn’t have been able to stay open.

Well, those two put their heads together and came up with a plan…..send Aimee to nursing school. I thought it was a great idea! I’ve watched “ER” and the Discovery Channel, it didn’t look that hard. I wasted no time in getting started with this. I called the school and was lucky enough to be accepted for the next semester they had coming up.

As excited as I was, nothing could have prepared me for the challenge that lied ahead. Basically, it sucked from day one. I found out rather quickly that my brain does not have the capacity for medical terminology or pharmacology dosage calculations. It was such a struggle.

I would study my note cards constantly, but no matter how hard I tried, nothing would stick. And these are things you kinda need to know when you’re working with the human body. Study groups didn’t help, studying independently didn’t help, making up songs and rhymes didn’t help. I ended up failing. I just couldn’t pull it off. It was apparent that I was not meant to be a nurse.

Yes, I was disappointed, but I was more upset with the fact that I wasn’t able to do this for them. I felt like a failure. However, it didn’t take long for those feelings to quickly turn into relief. We found out that the woman on the east coast decided to stop pushing this initiative forward. She had run into so many brick walls that she pretty much gave up. Which was fine by me; I didn’t want to have to go back and do that again.

There are a few things you should know (compliments of Augie)….

1.     A “tat” can be drawn in 5 minutes. Real artwork takes time.

2.     Creative designs rarely come flying out of my ass. They require actual work. The day that happens, I'll let you know.

3.     If you didn’t take care of your tattoo, it doesn’t mean that I screwed up. You did.

4.     No, I cannot cover your tribal armband with a tiny daisy.

5.     A good tattoo isn’t cheap. I’m sorry if you can’t afford it. Maybe you shouldn't have bought the new smart phone.

6.     Go ask my landlord if he'll give me a discount this month and if he says yes, then I’ll be happy to give you the “hook up.”

7.     Yes, tattoos do hurt. Did you expect to a massage when you sat down? Suck it up buttercup and hold still!!

8.     You came to me because I’m good at what I do and I take pride in my work. Please listen when I give you advice. I’m only trying to make your tattoo look good.

9.     Unless you’re an experienced tattoo artist, please don’t tell me how to do my job. I knew how to do this long before you came in the door.

10.  Don’t let the third cousin of your "bro" give you a tattoo. Owning a “tattoo gun” doesn’t make them talented or skilled.

11. HEPATITIS CAN KILL YOU!!!!! Don’t be a cheap bastard….spend the extra $50.

The tattoo and body piercing industry has gone through such an evolution, especially over the last several years in terms of acceptance. Like I’ve mentioned before, people with tattoos were always looked down upon as low-life’s or seedy characters. It’s nice to see that things are changing. It’s not perfect, but we’re getting there.

I remember like it was yesterday being shunned and discriminated against myself. I had a nurse practitioner refuse to touch me during a physical because I was tattooed and pierced. She told me that I was disgusting and I should be ashamed of myself for disgracing my body in such a way and then walked out of the exam room.

I was humiliated. I was only 18 years old at the time and didn’t have the guts to stand up for myself. I sheepishly put my clothes back on and left with my head hung low. That was the first time something like that had ever happened to me, but sadly, it wouldn’t be the last.

We’ve been ignored, given dirty looks and even given the cold shoulder when we’ve been out shopping, on vacations or just walking down the street. It’s obnoxious, yes, but you learn to take it in stride. The funniest time was when we were denied a dog from a breeder. This woman denied us over the phone without even seeing us.

The conversation I had with this woman went really well…..at first. She liked that I was a preschool teacher. She told me all about her grandkids and their preschool experience. We talked about her dogs and how cute the breed was. She even told me that she still had two puppies available and invited us to come and see them. That all changed when she asked me the next question.

“Now, tell me about your husband. What does he do for a living?” Without hesitation I told her. The words tattoo and pierce must have made her a mute because there was stone cold silence on the other end. Hello??

“I’m sorry, I was mistaken. The pups have been spoken for already. I’m sorry you wasted your time.” Click. Just like that, the conversation was over.

The worst is when our girls are the victims of bigotry solely based on adults’ opinions of us. Discriminate against me all you want, I don’t care. Just don’t treat my kids badly based on your close minded opinions. That has to be the most frustrating and difficult part of all of this.

There have been a few occasions where that has happened, but there was this one mom in particular that really pissed me off. Our girls went to school together and we had talked before at parent functions and during drop off/ pick up times for play dates. She was, I thought, a nice person. Again, that all changed once she met Augie.

They hadn’t met before because of his work schedule, but when they finally did meet, she let her true colors shine like the sun on a hot summer day. When Augie was picking our daughter up at this woman’s house, she caught a glimpse of his arms, her smile went to a look of pure disgust. She couldn’t have pushed our daughter out her front door fast enough. He didn’t say anything since the girls were right there. He just said goodbye and brought her home.

It wasn’t until she came home from school the next day hysterical, practically inconsolable that we learned how awful this woman really was. This woman’s daughter told our little girl on the playground that her mom said they could no longer play or have sleepovers because she didn’t “trust” her dad. She went on to say that she was told her daddy was a bad person and it wasn’t safe for her to come to our house anymore. The word jail came up a few times. The mom pretty much slammed our family based on his two arms and now her daughter was following suit.

We sat her down and talked about discrimination and how there are those out there that assume tattooed people are automatically bad. This was difficult to explain to a seven year old because she had never experienced anything like that before. To her, daddy was perfect.

I called the mom only to get her voice mail, repeatedly. She never called me back and avoided me like the plague at the school. Coward. Thankfully this story has a happy ending….they moved.

This experience however, was a blessing in disguise. It allowed us to start talking with our girls about how important it is not to judge a book by its cover. They’ve learned that they should to get to know a person and base your opinions on who they are and not by how they look like or what they do. Easier said than done, I know.

Nowadays, with body art being so prevalent in society, it's not as bad as it was. Sure, there are those that are still closed to the idea that tattooed/pierced people are nice and believe we'll turn you into a criminal, but oh well. It's their loss if they don't want to get to know us.

“Well, I’ll be. You muss’be Ow-gie.”  

“Augie. Yes, Augie. That’s me.”

“Well, it sure is ny-ce to fine’ly meet ya, Ow-gie.”

This was the first conversation he had with my extended family when I took him down to meet them for the first time. By down I mean south. Augie was born in Illinois, raised in Illinois and the vast majority of his family is spread the northern states. Going to southern Indiana, a short journey north of the Kentucky border, was a whole new experience for him; the sights, but mostly the sounds.

I did my best to prepare him for what may lie ahead. The town I’m from is old, real old. Put it this way, it was established as a fort in the 1730’s. Yah, it’s old. But the history there is amazing (the battles fought there, it’s the home of comedian Red Skelton and the treasured visit from Robert Kennedy on the campaign trail, just to name a few). Unfortunately, he didn’t get to experience any of the history. We didn’t have time for that. We had a lot of family ground to cover.

“Now remember….if you have any trouble understanding anyone, let me know.” I reminded him as we arrived at my Grandma’s house. He reassured me that he should be just fine and not to worry; he had a plan. He said his plan was to try and piece together their sentences to figure out what they were saying. He reckoned that if he could understand at least a few words, he’d get what they were talking about. That all changed once we opened the door.

Introductions went fast and furious. His strategy went right out the window as he was bombarded with hugs, kisses and food.  I have to give him credit though; he took it all in stride. He did have a little trouble here and there, but it wasn’t a big deal. Heck, anyone who has ten people talking to you at once is going to have some difficulty no matter what accent they have. However, it got even more difficult when I introduced him to one of my cousins.

The conversation started out innocent enough. Augie asked, “So, what do you do for a living?”

My cousin responded, “Ahhh haw coe.” I knew the second those three syllables hit the air, Augie would be beside himself wondering what the hell he just heard.

“I’m sorry?” Augie replied ever so politely. I could tell he was trying to use the piecing together strategy that he told me he was going to use.

“Ahhh haw coe.” Augie looked like a deer in headlights. The only thing I could do was smile. Well, maybe not the ONLY thing. What’d he say to ya sweetheart? Hee…hee…hee

“I’m so sorry. Sometimes my ears get stuffy and I don’t hear so good. You do what now?”

“Ahhh haw coe.” Augie looked over to me again, but this time mouthed the words I don’t know what he is saying. I gave in; he looked so pitiful.

I leaned over to him and mouthed really slow:  He….Hauls….Coal. Poor Augie, he was so embarrassed. He felt bad that he wasn’t able to understand the guy. I reassured him that it was okay because I highly doubted my cousin understood what he was saying either.

 

Augie has gotten better at figuring out the southern drawl. He had no choice….he married me didn’t he? He still needs help with translations from time to time, but for the most part, he does alright. But the next time you’re in the shop, ask him if he knows anyone that can haw coe!

Do I mind it when clients become friends? No, not really. Most of the clients that we have become friends are wonderful people. I wouldn’t trade their friendship for the world. However, it’s the clients that try to take things further than friendship that bother me.  Thankfully, this has only happened three times in the past 21 years. Oh yah, I remember each of them very well!

The first time, the girl didn’t even live in Illinois. She met Augie at some tattoo shows before I began dating him. He did tell me about her, but in typical guy fashion….Yah, she’s got this thing for me, but trust me honey, she’s not my type. Cough cough…bullshit…cough cough! I immediately began to create my own image of this young lady in my little brain…a tall blonde size 0 with gynormous boobs.  A Pam Anderson type (1990’s Pam, of course), if you will.

There before me stood this chick that looks like she received make up advice and style tips from the Cure. He was right! There’s no way in hell she was his type.  This chick was in black from her hair all the way down to the fishnet stockings that disappeared into her Doc Martin boots; I do have to say, the school girl plaid mini-skirt added a nice touch. It gave me flashbacks to my old St. Margaret Mary uniform skirt except this one was shrunken to fit a toy poodle.

Remember the saying….if looks could kill, I’d be dead? Well, once Augie introduced me to her, serrated daggers darted from her eyes straight into my skull. I should be dead.  Thankfully, she got pissed off and left. Well, left where we were standing anyway. She continued to circle around us like a shark eyeing up his prey. I was grateful when we finally headed home.

A short time later, letters from her started appearing in the studio mailbox. First it was twice a month, then once a week. Each and every letter was her professing her love for him and how I’m a “harlot.” Harlot? I wear too many layers of clothes to be a harlot, sweetie. Before long, the letters came daily. The letters eventually stopped and we never heard from her again. I guess she found a new guy to obsess about, oh well.

The second time came in the form of a couple; a husband and wife. They came in for tattoos on a regular basis, which is common. I don’t have a problem with that; some people actually become addicted to tattoos and will be in all the time. Hell, I was one of those people. But things began to change when they started to “hang out” without getting tattooed or pierced.

On several occasions, Augie had to ask them to leave. That opened the flood gates, let me tell you. They began showing up with food for the guys as an excuse to come up all the time. The guys loved it of course….free food. Augie became blinded by the cream puffs, beef sandwiches, pizza and gobs of other goodies they would bring up to them. The way to a man’s heart is his stomach, like Grandma always said, I suppose.

The dynamic duo took it up a notch. They got a hold of our home number and began to call me. I put the kibosh on that faster than the flap of a humming bird’s wing. They did stop calling, but now they turned to the internet. The email I opened from the husband went something like this: I’ve been getting into photography lately and since you’re an artist like me, I would like your opinion on them. They're real avant garde. There were pictures in there alright, but  I wouldn't call them avant garde by any means.

The pictures were of his wife posed over logs, rocks and even in front of a waterfall buck ass naked. The shots were in black and white (maybe that's what he meant by avant garde). I felt compelled to write back. I don’t remember the exact words I wrote to him, but it basically came down to…You asshole creep! Stay away from me, my husband and the studio or I will be calling the cops on your dumb ass.  Guess what? We haven’t heard or seen them since.

The last one (and I hope it stays the LAST one) kind of crept up on us. It was a young lady pining for Augie. What started out as innocent flirting quickly turned into a crazy time. In the beginning, she would go out of her way to do things for us like help with the cleaning, getting them food (yah, I know, that should’ve been my first clue) and talking with customers. She really was a sweet kid, so I thought.

She began to show up at various places he was at like the gas station, a grocery store, the pharmacy. He even saw her in the rearview mirror on his way to work a few times. This girl even showed up at Home Depot when we were with our kids. Mind you, we live 45 minutes from the studio and so does she. It was unsettling.

Thankfully, Augie was able to end the situation before it progressed any further. She moved on and hasn’t been back since. I’m glad this and the other situations ended well. And I hope to never experience anything like it again....I’m getting too old for this shit!