50. Get a tattoo

I always told myself that if I could think of something that I would want on my body for the rest of my life, be it a quote, a picture, a special date, etc. then I would get a tattoo of it. If I could picture myself at 80 with this same tattoo and would not look or feel completely ridiculous, then I might consider permanently inking my body. This put a lot of pressure on me the few times I actually did consider getting a tattoo. I thought it had to be so remarkable, make such a meaningful statement, that it would warrant "defiling my body" as I was taught getting a tattoo was considered by God. Nothing could measure up to that standard. At various stages of my life, I had contemplated tattoos to represent who I was. I briefly considered the "comedy/tragedy" masks when I was getting my degree in Theater. When "Moulin Rouge" came out, I pondered how the phrase, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is to love, and be loved in return" would look on my arm. During my "Summer of Love" I debated what kind of peace symbol would look best and where. But each time I got close, I chickened out for one reason or another. What If I inked a statement that 10 years later I no longer agreed with, or wanted on my body? The potential of regret was the biggest factor in putting off something I only thought I wanted to do. Another was not wanting to go with the crowd. It seems like everyone has a tattoo these days, even people I would never suspect.  I actually like being different. Not having tattoos made me different. I don't even have my ears pierced. A tattoo is way more rebellious than a piercing. And finally, as an actor, I have to be conscious of my body and how it will look on camera. A casting director is less likely to cast me if they have to constantly cover up my body graffiti. If you don't believe me, look up Nikki Taylor, a famous model who can't get cast because of her tattoos. She is now going through the painful process of removal. 

To give you some context, I was raised by very conservative parents, who even though they were alive during the 60's somehow managed to miss the entire decade. They had two 50's and moved straight into the 70's. According to my knowledge they had no "rebellious stage" which is often how tattoos come about. Especially during my parents generation when tattoos were the exception to the rule; unlike today where they seem to be the rule. I knew a few people growing up who had tattoos, but being raised Mormon, I just wasn't around many people who had them. However, when I was 18, and a Senior in high school, one of my best friend's got a tattoo of a lady bug beneath her bikini line. This girl was the most conservative young woman I knew, and I was blown away by her decision to get one. It was totally out of character; at least what character I had pre judged a person with tattoos to have. Years later, I asked if she still liked the tattoo, and if it held up after two babies, and to my surprise she said she was very happy and it still looked good. It made me think about who and what a tattoo is for? She clearly made a personal decision, and enjoys the little piece of art that only she and her husband can see. It made it sweet and intimate, rather than cheap and grungy.

In the Summer of 2009, I began dating my boyfriend. After a meeting at the beach, I realized that he had two tattoos. Up until that point, I had regarded him as a very well educated, buttoned up, corporate executive. Yet here he was with two, very poorly done tattoos that looked like he acquired them while drunk in Mexico. Still, this side of him was exciting, and I liked that. I learned that he, unlike my parents, spent many years in his "rebellious stage." Mexican tattoos were just a remnant of that time. A few months into our relationship, I dared him to get my name tattooed onto his arm. I said it as a joke, really, over dinner. But astonishingly, he got up, grabbed his coat and walked out to his car. I followed silently, waiting for him to say, "just kidding," at any moment, but he didn't. Maybe he was waiting for the same from me. But neither of us spoke until we arrived at the tattoo parlor. He sat down, explained what he wanted, and 10 minutes later, my name was indefinitely inscribed on his arm. It was fast, exciting, sexy, rebellious, and I wanted more. I knew I couldn't keep telling my boyfriend to get tattoos to satisfy this desire (though I'm still hopeful that we can fix the Mexican mistake). It was time for me to step up.

With newly discovered excitement, I researched celebrity tattoos. Rhianna has some cute ones. I pondered getting stars down the back of my neck like her. But ultimately the image I kept coming back to was music notes on Lea Michelle. Like Lea Michelle, I am a singer, and music is a huge part of my life. The song fell in place much easier than I had suspected. While a few songs came up, the one I kept coming back to was "Good Feeling," by the Violent Femmes. I heard it for the first time when I first started dating my boyfriend, and fell in love with it and him at the same time. It was one of his favorite songs as a teen. It's about how elusive feeling good is, and how it "always seems like your leaving, when I need you here just a little longer." It is entirely possible that the song is about drugs. However, it was very powerful and meaningful in our young relationship, and was the jumping off point for many deep discussions. Gordon Gano, the singer, sounds so tortured in the song, and even though the title is "Good Feeling," the tone is quite melancholy. That spoke to both of us at the time.

Just as quickly and deliberately as my boyfriend etched my name on his epidermis, I strutted my virgin skin into the same tattoo parlor and rather unceremoniously became initiated into the club. I chose the first three notes of the song that begins, "Good feeling......." a half note, a quarter note, and another half note, and tagged them on the inside of my left forearm. It was painful but bearable. I cannot imagine how some people suffer through the enormous tattoos I often see pricked into their skin for what must be hours and hours, and in some of the most tender places - seriously, genitals? Will I regret it in 10 years? I doubt it. I forget I have it. It's easy to cover with makeup, it's simple and subtle, yet makes a big statement to me. It's personal, and reminds me of a time that I look back on with fond memories. I don't feel particularly rebellious, though I think about getting something bigger every once in a while. I don't feel grungy. I don't feel any less unique. After all, I still don't have my ears pierced, and have no plans to do that in the future. I am happy that I did it. I anticipate that it will still look pretty decent at 80 when I will want to be reminded of 'good feeling' more than ever.