I’ve been fascinated by tattoos for as long as I can remember. At family gatherings when I was little, I always bugged my uncle to show off the devil that adorned his upper arm. In high school, my weird friends and I spent hours brainstorming what artwork deserved permanent display on our bodies. My idea? Rowlf, the dog from The Muppet Show, in a straw boater hat, playing an upright piano. I pledged that the day I turned eighteen, I would either pierce my ear or get a tattoo. But I chickened out. Twenty-five years later, my earlobes remain unblemished (thank goodness). But every few weeks for most of my adulthood, I’ve found myself wondering: what excuse could I possibly concoct to get inked now?

Reasons to Not Get a Tattoo:

1. Disease and infection concerns. But aren’t modern tattoo parlors licensed and committed to health and safety?
2. The judgment of others. Except it’s 2023—most of us are better than ever at accepting the diverse ways people choose to express themselves. (Also, I already have a job.)
3. Fading and loss of definition. But tattoos aren’t museum pieces. They’re living pieces of art that age along with us.
4. It hurts. Yeah, but I’m in my forties now. Everything is starting to hurt.

My brother got a tattoo his senior year in college, three Greek letters that signify the unofficial fraternity he and his friends created. Brilliant! This could be my excuse, too: a notable life event, shared with others, that prompts all of us to pursue a permanent bodily reminder. I floated the idea with my college forensics team, but no one was interested. The kickball and volleyball squads I played on in my 20s weren’t good enough to deserve such long-lasting tribute. As career and family routines replaced memorable social endeavors, I was running out of options. It got to the point that the rare restaurant meal with friends was the only occurrence remotely worthy of commemoration. Too bad that after dessert I never had the energy to roll up my sleeve and endure the needle.

My Top Five Tattoo Ideas:

1. Rowlf (with the hat at the piano).
2. This cool old drawing of a brontosaurus from my favorite dinosaur book as a kid.
3. Something that signifies Eau Claire. A map outline? Something river related?
4. An image from some piece of fiction I’ve written.
5. A rose encircling a totally sweet dagger (just kidding).

Finally, the excuse I needed arrived. From 2016 to 2018, I attended a low-residency grad school program in creative writing at Augsburg University in Minneapolis, and a few of my dear classmate friends loved the tattoo idea. On an afternoon off during our last residency, four of us found a tattoo parlor, and two of us opted for artwork connected to the manuscripts we had written as thesis projects (see option #4 above). On my right shoulder, I now sport a maroon snow shovel stuck in a snowbank. Not only does it symbolize a major accomplishment, but it also alludes to my love of upper midwestern winters (not kidding, this time), AND it depicts an actual snow shovel that has accompanied my wife and me since we were married. Five years later, I still find myself staring at it in the mirror. I love it. It makes me feel cool.

What It Would Take for Me to Pursue the Second Tattoo I So Desperately Desire:

1. Writing an article about tattoos for everyone to read.
2. Someone who read that article asking if I was actually serious.
3. Finding literally anyone who would be willing to get a tattoo with me.
4. Maybe a gift certificate?

For about two decades now, I’ve taught English to seniors at Eau Claire’s Memorial High School, which means witnessing plenty of eighteenth birthdays and all the ways Chippewa Valley teenagers attempt to exercise their independence. Many of them get tattoos, and every single time someone removes a bandage in class to show off their new ink, I get asked the same question.

“Ras, do you have any tattoos?”
“Yes,” I reply. (They’re always surprised.)
“Where is it? What is it?”

This is where I grow modest. My work shirts don’t allow for easy viewing, and besides, my snowbank with a shovel isn’t the most impressive piece, especially compared to some of the enormous works my students opt for. Still, I’m giddy every time this conversation occurs. I don’t know why. A latent desire to look awesome in front of popular kids? Proof of my own independence and creativity? Evidence that I can overcome fears and hesitations and follow through on what I want?

Who knows? But after my next tattoo, I’m certain I’m going to feel even cooler.