"Responsibility Gone Wild"

I have not always been as responsible as I became after my marriage and the birth of my two children. I use to be completely free to do whatever I liked and I will say that I made good use of that time.

I have been on top of speakers dancing at the Limelight, an Atlanta nightclub. I have thrown my dress and pantyhose out of a moving car window while changing into jeans and a t-shirt on I-75 south. (I couldn't go home wearing a dress and heels and have my parents ask where I'd been. I suppose I could have gotten them from my friend the next day , but I can report that alcohol has been known to interfere with logic.)

There are other examples I could give since my children and husband aren't going to ever read this but those should give you enough of an idea.

There was no problem for me at first with the settling down and being the responsible caregiving worker bee that I became, until one night when I was at a family birthday dinner for my brother.

The first incident was when my father looked down at my opened toed shoes and saw my toe ring. He said "What's that hon? It looks like they've got you banded like a homing pigeon." This was, of course, in reference to my always having to be constantly on the ready for anything at all my children and husband might need, including things as minor as a glass of tea.

Later that evening I got a second dose of outside opinions on how I was viewed by others when my silbings, husband, and children, began discussing my personality. They were saying things like "you can always find Arlene because she's always where she's suppose to be." "She won't call in sick to work unless she's dying." "Mom is so by the book and takes care of everyone".

They were chuckling about all of the individual comments and having a great time. To their credit they did say that they were glad I was the way I am because they could always depend on me when there was a problem that needed to be taken care of.

They had no idea how disturbing this conversation was to me. All I could think was oh my God! I am in the worst rut anyone has ever been in. I am in danger of losing my mind. Suddenly I wanted to do something that would shock each and everyone of them just to prove that I could.

I was determined at that point to get out of the box. I just didn't know what I was going to do yet. Ideas began to race around in my mind, but compared to how earth shattering I wanted whatever I did to be, the ideas seemed weak, Then it happened.

I had just left a class I had been taking that summer, one Friday afternoon, and there it was, a tattoo shop. Suddenly every iota of sense that I had once retained left my body. I whipped in the parking lot like something wild. I parked and got out of the car and hurried inside. I knew on some level that I had to be quick because I only had a narrow time frame before Jiminy Cricket started talking in my ear.

I marched myself right up to the counter and announced to the man standing there that I wanted to get a tattoo. He looked at me and semi-smiled, okay smirked, and asked of what?, and where I'd like it. I hadn't thought that far ahead so I just glanced quickly at the wall and pointed to the smallest red rose that I could find. I said "I want that one." He took me behind the counter and after I made sure he was opening brand new needles (you can't be too careful) we were ready to get started.

I kicked my high heels off, pulled my skirt up a little bit, and put my foot up on the table. I pointed to my left ankle and said "I'd like it right there please." He applied the outline for it, and I began having an internal freak-out. I just shut my eyes and thought about all that my family had been saying, and it was done.

The next thing I knew I was walking out of the shop stunned at what I had done, wearing a gauze pad on my left ankle, and carrying a small round tin of ointment marked "Tattoo Goo".
I got into my car and began to tell myself that I had better get it together. It was done now, and if I wanted to be effective with shocking everyone with my behavior I had better be ready to own it.

Needless to say by the time that I got home I was beside myself, and Jiminy Cricket was running amuk in my mind. I was 35 years old and all I could think was what in the world are my mama and daddy going to say?, And my kids? Good Lord, what have I done? I went straight to my bedroom , shut the door, and called my mama.

I said "I lost my mind this afternoon, and I've gotten a tattoo. I need you to please call daddy for me and tell him what I've done before he sees it." My declaration was met with a deafening silence. When she finally spoke she said "Arlene, you are a grown woman, living out on your own with a family and decisions like that are yours to make." I told her that I knew all of that, and then begged her to call him for me anyway, and asked her to call me right back after she'd done it. That was the longest five minutes of my life. When she called back it was with the news that my father had just declared me middle-aged crazy.

I got similar reactions from the rest of the family and my husband found it quite amusing. When I was going to the mailbox the next day one of our neighbors saw the bandage on my ankle and asked, what happened? My husband looked at her and said "she got a tattoo", then he said "I know, there goes the neighborhood". Oh yes, he's a real riot. Not to mention that shortly after I had gotten it there was a blood drive at work and I had to admit to my co-workers that my tattoo wasn't old enough yet for me to give blood. (Evidently there's a six month rule) I also had an experience where one of the football players at school shouted out at me, while I was in front of the classroom, "Mrs Foster, repent while there's still time!" I almost died. The other students, of course, found this to be hilarious.

Was it worth it? No, it was not. I remember that it was not each time that I put on a dress or a skirt and I have to reach for my dark tights to cover it up. It's only about an inch and a half in size but it's there nevertheless. Every now and then when I'm taking a bubble bath, I lift my leg up out of the water and I still feel a little shocked by it's being there. I am not saying that my tattoo is the biggest thing on my list of regrets, but it is out of character for me.

Since then, I 've learned that getting out of the box can mean doing lots of things, none of which have to be permanent. I have also learned that being responsible and dependable aren't the worst attributes that one can have either.

Everyone lives and learns. I just suppose that some lessons in life come with reminders that are physically evident. My children are grown now and I get out of the box on occasion and have fun. I drink now and then, I laugh, I go out with my friends, but..... I avoid tattoo shops.