I'll Always Love My Mama

So here's a little tid-bit you might not have known about me. I have a tattoo.



I've had one for a few years now, but I was keeping it a secret from my parents. My dad found out about 10 or 11 months after I got it. My parents had come out to Reno for a Christmas visit ( it was troy and my first Christmas as a married couple, as well as in our first house)

anyways.... I guess Daddy saw it when he and I went to the food store to get some gravy for the Turkey I was going to be preparing. I must have forgotten about it, and when I skooched way down to the back of the bottom of the shelf in the store, the ink peeked out from my pants.

I, of course, didn't know that he saw this until a few hours later when he and I were getting something from the beer fridge in the garage.


"Nice Ink," he says in the most monotone-slash-stern voice I'd ever heard. "Don't let your mother see it."


so after I wiped my ass, I regained composure and carried on with the Holiday festivities.

That was a year and a half ago.


During this visit, I fell back into step with wearing two t-shirts, sweat jackets tied around my waist, and making sure things were always 'tucked in' before reaching down to pick up the baby, some toy, or I dunno... SNEEZE?


and yes.... it HAS been 1000 degrees lately, thank you very much, and YES... I HAVE been sweating my face off from all the extra layers.


so anyways... on Tuesday morning, Rhena began her favorite game of "Uh-oh".... you know the one where she drops something and says "Uh-oh" over and over and over again??? and yes... the same game where she'll still say "uh-oh" even though nothing has been dropped in over 5 minutes and she has nothing in her hands TO drop cause mama's back is damn near broken??? .....yes. That's the game.


Anyways... so we're playing "Uh-Oh!", and I paused briefly to fix my pyjamas when suddenly out of nowhere my mom says,

"Oh, you don't have to fix your shirt... I know you have a tattoo."


Come again?

Turns out she never actually saw it, but the ole gypsy started noticing how I always grab my back or tuck in before I bend over. (I guess it would be hard to NOT notice, considering I do it about 549 times a day when she's around???)


Anyways... I suppose y'all are like... SO???? but you don't understand. my mom is one of THOSE moms. like the kind where you even THINK about doing something you know she's not going to approve of and suddenly you can't get Tootie from the Facts of Life out of your head saying "You're gonna be in Trooooooou-BLE!"


And I know, I know... what exactly would my mom do if she found out?? Ground me??? I mean... I *am* almost 33 years old... I'm married and have my own child now... c'mon! how bad could it be???


And I know all this... but yet.... the fact remains..... no matter how old I am, I'll Always Love My Mama... and I respect her more than anything. I really DO value her opinion, even though there are times I say "to hell with what she says!!".... it does not take away the basic and simple premise that I do not want to intentionally disrespect her.

Deep down, I guess I knew that as much as she wouldn't say too much about my ink-job... I know it'd be one of those things she just wouldn't quite feel the same about.... so I tried to keep it from her.


When she asked me how I thought about Rhena getting a tattoo... I was honest. .....At this point in her life... DEFINITELY NOT. ....But if she gets one some day... I just want her to wait until she's old enough to understand what permanent means. (and never mind all you that are gonna say how they can be removed.... that's a crock of shit for wishy-washy people.... and a cop-out. don't get me started!)


Anyways... I wish for Rhena to THINK before she does something, and to understand the word consequences. ....Whether it's a tattoo, marriage, sex, drugs, drinking, or whatever.... I want her to THINK before she chooses to go down a certain road. If she does so, and is willing to accept the consequences that come with that choice (and knowing some could be life-long...) then I support her.

So anyways... long story short.... I've been outed.... and I survived.

As for my mom.... I appreciate how cool she handled the situation (I guess respect goes both ways, huh?) and am now thrilled that I no longer have to wear shit tied around my waist in Charlotte summers. But ultimately, I think my mom is just happy I didn't end up in the circus as the Tattoo Lady like I wanted to when I was a kid.

Love you, mom!









Today's title brought to you by the Intruders, 1973