The butterfy tattoo

Claudia Olivares

February 13, 2013

Kristina Rogers

English 1A

The Butterfly Tattoo

            The summer right after graduating high school, I got my first job. A part of me felt like finally doing something rebellious. During high school several girls got pregnant; most people I knew were partying, some dying their hair pink, or piercing some strange part of their face or body. I was nowhere near having a baby or even allowed to go out or pierce anything on my body. Part of me felt that I should go and do something spontaneous because I never did anything close to being a rebellious teenager. I always liked the idea of getting a tattoo I just didn’t know of what. I mean they do say tattoos are a sin, I guess why not buy myself a one way ticket to hell?

            Graduating from high school really made me feel like I missed out on something. I never went out to football games, a school dance, or get home past curfew, snuck out, or have gone to a house party. I still remember graduation when I heard them call my name to get my diploma, as I reached out to get the diploma and shake the principals hand I thought to myself “Is this it”? I couldn’t help but think of how much shit I had planned to do that summer. I wanted to just run off and go do whatever I wanted to do. Too bad my mom and step dad weren’t on the same page as I was. Every time I had planned to go out there was always an excuse on why I couldn’t or shouldn’t go. Right when I thought nothing worse could happen; I had to get a job. So then not only did I have a shitty job, and not have time to go out with my friends, but I didn’t even have time for myself. A Friday night at work I started to count my hours for the check I was expecting that day and I realized I didn’t have to pay for my cell phone so I would have extra money that check. The first thing that popped in my head was fuck it I’m going to go get a tattoo.

            The next morning I woke up and called the tattoo shop here in Dixon to make an appointment. Now I had two days to decide on what tattoo I wanted and tell my mom that I was going to get a tattoo. A part of me felt like it would be easier to just go and get the tattoo myself without telling my mom because I was eighteen and it is my body not hers. But I did want to still have a roof over my head, so I didn’t want to risk getting in trouble. My mom had her nose pierced and has two tattoos so out of all people I thought I could go to her and she would probably understand why I wanted one.  I googled girl tattoos and I sure as hell was not going to tattoo a star or some kind of flower. So then I started to think I wanted something to resemble my grandfather who had passed away from cancer when I was five. I fell in love with the idea and looked up a picture of a dove and I would want his initials below the dove.

 Now that I had decided what I wanted to get, I had to find a way to tell my mom that I was going to get a tattoo the next day in the morning. We went to six flags that day and we had a blast taking my four year old sister to look at the animals. It was finally safe for me to blurt out my mischievous plan for the next day. We went to the butterfly room where there are all kinds of beautiful, colorful butterflies. Walking in there all you saw was all different kinds of colors of butterflies and of different sizes. There wasn’t one person in there that wasn’t amazed of all the pretty butterflies. The only bad thing was it was very humid in the butterfly room, as if the weather wasn’t hot enough outside. I felt like this was the perfect time to tell my mom that I had made an appointment to get a tattoo. I felt so sticky on my chest and arms and I didn’t know when would be the perfect time to tell my mom. We sat on a bench next to a pretty waterfall and I was finally brave enough to tell my mom I wanted to get a tattoo. I felt like I couldn’t breathe because I wasn’t sure if she was going to let me, I would have been furious if she said no. Each time I tried to tell her she kept interrupting me because she kept pointing out different kinds of butterflies. At this point, I was so anxious I just wanted to scream. I finally just blurted out that I made an appointment to get a tattoo and if it was okay with her that I get one. The whole ten seconds that it took her to reply felt like an eternity. I had very little hope that she would say yes, but right away she said it depended on what I would tattoo and as soon as I was about to tell her, I look down I saw a beautiful yellow butterfly on my foot. I was lost for words at this point because I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of tattooing a butterfly. I felt that it was the perfect idea for me because one of the last memories I have with my grandfather was going on a walk and seeing all the butterflies and trying to catch some. My mom loved the idea but her only condition was she had to be there when I get the tattoo. It was like a sign to me that my grandpa was there next to me when I asked her. At that moment I wanted to jump up and down and just skip all throughout Marine World just like when I was five years old. I was so anxious to get home and paint my toes, I mean I wasn’t about to go get a tattoo on my foot without having my nails looking cute.

I couldn’t sleep at all that night I was so restless for it to be time to go and get my tattoo. My mom was out of work at five and I wanted my boyfriend and sister there with me as well. Everyone that knew I was going to get a tattoo kept telling me that the pain was going to be massive, I would change my mind right when I hear the tattoo gun turn on, and that I was going to cry the whole time. I didn’t care what anyone told me, even if I did cry I was going to get my tattoo and prove everyone wrong. We all drove together to the tattoo place and I could hear the guy getting a tattoo breathing hard, I could hear the tattoo gun and it was making me so nervous. I had to write a consent form and my hands were sweating and I was shaking, I felt like I took two minutes just to spell out my name. I felt so confident that I could do it but at the same time I was second guessing myself. He sketched me the butterfly and instead of having the initials below the butterfly he hid the initials in the wings of the butterfly.

When he pressed on the design on my foot to show me how it would look, I couldn’t stop smiling. I didn’t want any color on the butterfly I just wanted him to shade in the wings really good. I was so nervous that I started to sweat. I saw him put on his gloves, bring out the ink, and start to wipe down my foot, and turn on the tattoo gun. My heart was beating fast I thought everyone around me noticed. He grabbed my foot and started my tattoo; the feeling wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I expected it to hurt to the point where I was screaming but it wasn’t like that at all. I would hate when I would feel him shade in the wings because he was on the bone on my foot. My boyfriend stood by me the whole time and I kept squeezing his hand. It was so hard for me to stay still and not twitch when I felt him shading in harder and faster on my foot bone. I still remember feeling all the chills I got from how much it hurt. After ten minutes of him doing my tattoo I was starting to feel like the pain was bearable. I could smell the ink and see the blood he’d wipe off my foot. He had his phone plugged in to the speakers and I could hear my favorite song from Red Hot Chili Peppers. I felt less tense and more relaxed. He started making conversation with me and was saying that the tattoo looked really nice on my foot. He made the smart comment that normally girls go in to get a butterfly tattoo on their lower back. Once he finished he wiped my foot with alcohol again to get the ink off and my tattoo came out so good. I loved the shading he did and it was even better than how I pictured it. It hurt like a bitch but it was so worth it. People walked in for their appointment and everyone kept saying they were impressed with me bearing the pain on my foot. My tattoo resembles not only my grandfather, but will always be something positive for me to look back on. I feel as if I fulfilled that empty feeling I had for not doing everything I would have liked to have done in high school.

In conclusion, they do say tattoos are a sin, I guess I bought myself a one way ticket to hell. I do believe people try growing up too fast and that a lot of kids do stupid things and end up regretting it. I personally know that this tattoo wasn’t done when I was drunk, under age, or at a garage. I did it when I was eighteen, after I graduated, had a job, I asked my mom for permission, made the appointment myself, and made sure that it was something I wouldn’t be ashamed of having tattooed when I am fifty.