So...You Wanna Know the Why Behind the Fish? Alright. I'll Tell You.

I've had several people ask about my tattoo.

Either they are seriously curious about my choice of ink and placement, or they are so shocked that I would actually follow through and get one.....whichever...

Here's the back story.

I'm a bit of a rebel at heart.  I know, shocking, right?  Not if you know me well. 

I'm a boundary pusher.  One foot over the fence on most days.  And I'm not even sure how my parents are still sane after having raised me.  Bless their hearts.  So to come home with a tattoo wasn't really a stretch.  It tends to be how I roll.

So...you've asked:

Why a tattoo? 
I've always wanted a tattoo.  Thankfully, I didn't follow my rebel spirit in my high school/college days or right now I'd be sporting some weird back tattoo of a fairy princess dancing on a daisy.  You think I'm kidding.

But my want for some ink has never really gone away.  My thoughts have just moved from weird statement-making to wanting something classy and that held meaning for me.  And I wanted a design that would carry its meaning with me as I got older.  (You know...because that dancing fairy probably wouldn't be so cute on a 90 year old body. Just sayin'.)

Why an ichthus?
The "Jesus Fish" has always held amazing symbolism for me.  I love the history of that particular symbol in our Christian heritage.  During the early days of Christianity, our sisters and brothers many times had to worship in secret, and a fish was the symbol that the people used to identify each other.  Fish on doors symbolized a secret place of worship or a fish drawn in sand would signal fellow believers.  (To read more about the ichthus and its place in Christian Church history, go here.)

Like I said, I wanted a design that would carry its weight throughout my entire life, what with tattoos being permanent and all, and the Jesus Fish fit the bill for me.  I feel so blessed to not live in a society where my faith must be kept hidden and that symbols are what have to be used to identify my beliefs, but, at the same time, I wanted my dedication to Christ to be obvious to even those that may only ever see me in passing.  (Please understand that I KNOW that Christ being evident in my life shows by the fruit that I bear and by my daily walk with Jesus, not by ink on my foot, but I wanted my tattoo to be a quick marker of my faith.)

Why the foot?
I don't come up with many good ideas on my own.  I'm a copy-cat by nature.  So, I'll give credit for this where credit is due.  One of my old pastor's daughters actually has this same tattoo.  And I always found myself admiring it and thinking that when/if I got my tattoo that I would want one like hers.  It was small and classy, and it meant something. 

And the more I thought about it...it made sense to me.  Since I was going for the outward symbol of where I place my faith, then I wanted people to see it.  And I am SO not an arm girl.  No judgement here, folks, it just isn't my cup of tea.  But what I am is a flip flop girl....and I knew that I could still appear classy and mature and respectable with the very small foot tattoo (strategically placed to look cute with flip flops, mind you!).

So there you have it.  Why the fish. Why the foot.  Why the ink. 

See?

Well thought out and meaningful. 

Ain't no dancing fairy.

Football, Fun, Friends, and Ink -- Day 2 (Part 2)

Before I tell you what happened….you have to promise to believe me.

Because when I tell you that this was not a rash decision…I want you to believe me.

Ask my friends. And the husband. They’ll tell you.

That the one thing that I have wanted FOREVER is a tattoo. Of an ichthus. On my foot.

And I have bugged these same people that will vouch for me for close near forever to take me and get one. And they never would.

Until Saturday night.

It all started out the same way. I spotted a tattoo parlor (this one was next to our hotel which seemed like providence anyway), and I started in with the begging. I want a tattoo. Please take me.

To my shock and surprise….they did.

One of the credentials that the parlor had to have was that it was clean. And this one was. It had lemon yellow walls, and didn’t have whacko paintings of skulls and dragons draped on the wall. Looked good to me.

And then I met Cadillac Chris. Apparently he is a cardiologist who packs heat, owns 3 Cadillacs, and also single handedly took down a Taliban cell when he was doing time in the army. And we all smiled and pretended like we believed him.

Because we didn’t want him to screw up my tat.

After arguing with Cadillac Chris for a good 15 minutes on the size of my Jesus fish….he finally took me back. (Cadillac Chris was under the impression that I was sadly mistaken about the size of the ink I wanted…but since I had rehearsed this day in my head for, literally, years…I stood firm and forced him to give me what I wanted.)

Look…that’s me and Cadillac Chris. And his nephew who couldn’t have been older than the can of cranberry sauce that I have sitting in my cabinet. The youngster kept telling me that it wouldn’t hurt….Uh, thanks…kid.

The kid was wrong. It hurt. Like the dickens. Obviously.

And then he was done.

Just like that.

And I now have it. And I couldn’t be happier. I love it.

And to celebrate my new ink…we went dancing. Because we all love to dance!! We met up with some other folks from our town there, and we all had a great time rockin’ out to some killer 80s music. It just doesn’t get better than Prince, Madonna, AC/DC, and Belinda Carlisle.

And by the end of the night…we all were having so much fun that we had forgotten about the game.

But we’re not discussing that.

Day 2 (Part 2) of Football, Fun, Friends, and Ink – Over and Out.