Move over, macho man! Momma’s getting ink

How old is too old when it comes to getting a tattoo? Author Jancee Dunn opines on this and other topics in her latest book, "Why Is My Mother Getting a Tattoo?"

Chapter 17: I'm Gettin' A Tattoo
Last Thanksgiving, right about the time that our family had finished scraping up the last of our triple fleet of pies (pecan, chocolate, and pumpkin) my mother pushed away from the table, dabbed her lips with a napkin and calmly made an announcement.

“I’m gettin’ a tattoo,” she said.

All of us froze. Most even stopped chewing, a testament to the gravity of the situation.

She looked around, defiant. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I’m doing it, and that’s that.”

Our dining table, strewn with artificial pumpkins and votive candles in harvest colors, suddenly transformed into a hushed, packed courtroom. Nobody spoke.

I cleared my throat. “Mom,” I said. “Mom. You’re not a kid. You’re __. [A note here. I have been requested not to reveal my mother’s age, as she looks considerably more youthful than her calendar age and would prefer to ‘let people wonder.’]

Dinah’s fork hovered motionless over the last scrap of her chocolate pie. “What do you plan to get, exactly?” she asked in a faint voice. “Have you thought about it?”

My mother drew herself up, relishing the moment. “I’ve decided to get a raven.”

“Why?” Dinah still hadn’t resumed eating. I had already finished my chocolate pie and wondered if I could finish hers, provided that she cut away the parts her fork had touched.

My mother shrugged. “I don’t know why. I’ve always liked ravens. Maybe that’s my totem or something, I don’t know. They just appeal to me.”

“I think I need to be fanned,” I heard Heather mutter to her husband, Rob. Then she asked my mother where she planned to have this tattoo inscribed.

“On my wrist,” she replied, waving her left hand over what I felt was a very large area of her right wrist.

Dinah tried again. “Is this some sort mid-life thing?”

My mother laughed. “I’ve passed mid-life. Am I having a later in life crisis? No. I just think it’s going to make me happy.”

Then I stepped in. “You’ll get tired of looking at it, believe me. Don’t you get sick of your clothes, your jewelry? You go out and buy new ones and give the old ones to Goodwill. Well, you can’t do that with tattoos. Simon Doonan once called them ‘permanent bell-bottoms.’ ”

At the same moment, we all arrived the collective realization that my father had not yet said a word. Every head snapped to where he sat at the long table opposite Mom. His resigned expression made it clear that they had already chewed the issue over.

Heather frowned. “Dad? You have nothing to say?”

He sighed and put down his fork. “Well,” he began finally. “I wish she wouldn’t do it, because it’s not easy to reverse those things. Your mother is a beautiful woman. She doesn’t need to make a statement. Why be a human billboard?”

My dad shook his head. “But you know your mother. The more you protest, the more determined she is to do it. When I object heavily to something, she’ll get her back up. I gave her my opinion, and either she takes it or she doesn’t. I respect her decision if that’s what she wants to do, but I don’t agree with it. Styles come and go. What’s it going to look like when she’s all wrinkled up? You’re not going to be able to tell what the hell it is. I don’t know, a butterfly on the wrist?”

“Didn’t you hear her?” said Heather. “She wants a raven.”

My dad raised his eyebrows. “ Hm. Even worse. A black raven?  That’s kind of dark, isn’t it? It will just look like a liver spot gone wild.”

My mom laughed merrily. “It’s my body,” she said. “I do not understand why everyone is getting so upset.”

I raised my eyebrows and informed her that had I floated the idea of a tattoo for myself ten years ago, she would not have approved.

She nodded. “Correct. I think ten years ago you would have been too young to decide something that was permanent. At my age, I’m certainly more aware that this is something I want for the rest of my life.” My mother’s little announcement would have been considerably less jarring if I had the sort of parents some of my friends had, ones who smoked pot with their kids or strolled around the house nude or passed on their treasured collection Hendrix records. But my folks had always been unapologetically square.

I tried for levity. “If you’re going to be radical, why not go all the way? Get a tattoo that fools the eye. How about a port wine stain? Or give yourself a chin cleft.”

“Why not lengthen your butt crack halfway up your back?” said Heather. “That would freak out everyone in your garden club.”

Tom cleared his throat. “Some senior citizens have gotten tattoos that say ‘Do not resuscitate,’ ” he pointed out. “Just an option.” 

More in books Susie Essman offers up hilarious health advice  ‘K2’: Anatomy of a deadly climbing expedition Slideshow: Children of war

MORE FROM TODAY BOOKS: MISCELLANEOUS

Racing to save Earth’s most endangered species

Racing to save Earth’s most endangered species Jimmy Carter: How volunteering gave me joy ‘K2’: Anatomy of a deadly climbing expedition R-E-S-P-E-C-T: Where has it gone? What do Americans really want? TV and sex Life lessons from childhood cancer survivors ‘Our Boys’ is a happier ‘Friday Night Lights’ How to assess your self-worth Two brothers, 12 months, one filmmaking dream No such thing as virginity, author says   Add Today Books: Miscellaneous headlines to your news reader: