At my urging, Ryan & I have decided to ‘reward’ ourselves in 2012 with tattoos. Yes Mom/Dad/Gramma I said I’m getting a tattoo…I’ve pushed three of your granddaughters out of my nether-regions and have since raised them to be upstanding citizens (for the most part) get off my damn back already. It will be my first & Ryan’s third.
Ryan, the ultimate patriot, has a Team Canada hockey symbol on one shoulder. As a lover of Egyptian mythology, he has an ankh on the other shoulder. He wants to build a kind of half-sleeve off the ankh he’s already got. And he wants to make it about his family.
::full freaking stop::
<tires screeching, hands upraised, terrified look on face>
Alicia’s Ultimate Marriage Rule: thou shalt not tattoo my name on your body. Ever.
Listen, I love my husband. I fully plan on him being my husband long after my dying breath. He wears a wedding ring, which has now left a permanent dent in his finger so he’s wearing-it-when-he’s-not-even-wearing-it. We are firmly entrenched in this marriage business. But I have this completely superstitious belief that tattooing your spouse’s name on your body is like a kiss of death.
I should say now that my tattoo also will be about my family.* But will have no direct mention of Ryan at all.
*No, I won’t tell you what I’m getting. It’s kind of like a baby’s name…what if you steal it? It’s totally awesome, so you totally would.
If you are reading this while staring at your elegantly scrawled husband’s name in ink on your shoulder, do not take this to mean I think your marriage is on it’s last legs. Your neuroses might be completely different than mine, and you are perfectly thrilled with your tattoo decision. High fives to you. And I wish I could be more like you.
But the “Wino Forever” Johnny Depp story rings in my damn ears every time I think of matching husband and wife tattoos. So in our house, the kids are fair game. Go ahead and get that “I love my Mom” cupid heart. A mermaid? It’s a little weird, but hey it’s your body so get on with your bad self! Cartoon character, flower, hockey team, gum on a shoe: these are all passable things to me. But never ever my name. Never ever my initials. Never ever some nickname you’ve given me. If there’s some Egyptian symbol for “wife” I’m perfectly fine with Ryan permanently decorating his body with that…so long as it’s generic.
It seems kind of backwards, I know. I want him to run screaming through the streets, “I LOVE ALICIA!!” but I’d be horrified if he had that emblazoned on his body. I can’t really explain it other than to say in this respect I’m wildly superstitious.
Do you agree?
Do you have your spouse’s name tattooed on you?
Are you still married?
HOW IS THIS HAPPENING?! (<- I’m kidding, but genuinely curious if I’m a neurotic when it comes to this or if I’m part of some crazy exclusive club…)