Being a girl with tattoos is not always glamorous. This article is amazing! I suggest you click on the article and read it yourself. I cannot even tell you how many times I have sat down and wrote this same exact list! If only I had a dollar every time a strange man lifted up my sleeve, touched my ink or pulled down their pants to show me their tattoo, I could own a vintage Cadillac by now. #5 on the list has happened to me and might be the most embarrassing. Part of my problem is I am far too polite to strangers to tell them to bugger off. Spread this around, the world needs some lessons in tattoo etiquette:
What follows is a short, handy-dandy, list of rules, or rather, “don’ts” for the curious stranger who sees pretty illustrations on a woman’s bare skin and thinks it’s an invitation to chat, to touch, to invade.
1. Don’t touch anyone without their consent.
I seriously can’t believe I even have to say this. But just don’t. Don’t grab my arm in a store, sweep my hair behind my ear while we’re standing in line, touch my leg, etc… I don’t care that you’re just trying to “get a better look.” I don’t know you and you’re touching my body.
2. Do not lift up someone’s clothing!
Ahhh! I still can’t believe this happens. And I’m not alone — every single one of my tattooed girlfriends has horror stories about people grabbing them, touching them, lifting up sleeves, shirts, or even pulling on their waistbands. WTF?!
3. They don’t all have a story.
Actually, most of them do — but a lot of them are personal or private. If I’ve just met you and you’re grilling me, I’m not going to want to share them with you.
4. Piggybacking on the above — don’t make a snide comment or insist that I defend them to you.
I’m not going to walk around telling everyone that they should have tattoos or pink hair or mullets or glasses or whatever. It doesn’t bother me that you don’t have tattoos, I don’t see why it should severely offend you that I do. (The “you” here being random stranger, new acquaintance or drunk relative I rarely see).
5. If you’re a medical professional, it is not appropriate to comment on my tattoos unless their presence directly affects your ability to treat me.
Appropriate example: My new allergist says, “Alli, since your arm is heavily covered is it alright with you if I do the prick test on your back? We’ll be able to see it better there since it’s less covered.”
Inappropriate example: A doctor (who I no longer see), right as she’s doing an internal pelvic exam, says, “You’re so covered, you’ve even got ink on your stomach.” Lady, your hand is up my vag — if we’re not getting sexy, I don’t want to talk about my tattoos.
6. Don’t feel bad for my parents.
Dear friends, and commenters, I know we’ve all heard this before — for any “questionable” decision we’ve made. “Oh what do your parents say?” or “Oh your poor parents!” Listen, random stranger, my parents may not love that I’m as decorated as I am but they do love that I’m happy, self assured, successful, and independent.
7. Please don’t show me yours.
Drunk dudes seem to sincerely believe that girls with tattoos are going to jump their bones the second we see the faded, scratched, tequila worm or Tasmanian devil they got when they were drunk in college. I have fun talking about my tattoos with fellow collectors, or nice, interesting, earnest people — I don’t so much enjoy seeing a dude I barely know start to disrobe in the middle of a bar because he wants to show me something. (This seriously happens All. The. Time).
8. Don’t point at me.
I’m sure your mother/third grade teacher/auntie told you that it’s rude. The end.
9. Do feel free to introduce yourself and tell me that you were curious about my tattoos.
If you’re a nice, non-invasive person willing to talk to me like I’m human, sure, I’ll chat with you. Will I lift up my shirt in the middle of the bar like the aforementioned dude-guy? No. But I’ll happily take five minutes to have a polite conversation with you — all you have to do is treat me like a person.
10. Do feel free to ask me where I got them done.
The people who tattoo me are amazing — talented, friendly, kind. I’m happy to send you their way.
Just a day in the life of Linda Marie. (Taken with Instagram at Lawrence Memorial Hospital)
Every lady likes a sexy Chinese dragon!
George ‘Professor’ Burchett was a famous English tattoo artist, inventor of cosmetic tattooing and very popular with the lady folk, from working class factory girls to society ladies. I don’t think I would be who I am know if this person never existed.
Speaking of tattoos my older brother has down syndrome and tonight we were kneeling together playing with my cat (he was also torturing me with noogies!) and some of my back was showing. He looks at my back and with all the sass and ‘tude he has has in his entire body, points his saucy little finger at me and says, “does mom and dad know you have another tattoo on your back because I think I should go tell them?” I then attacked him with tickles! Oh, the joys of moving back home, as an adult, continue to grow.
Now someone go find me a copy of his memoirs for Christmas, pretty please with a darling cherry on top!

So I finally got around to taking a picture of this… or should I say I got my brother to take this photo and it was a rough event trying to teach him how to use my camera! It’s on my ribs and yes, it hurt like a bitch but thanks to Cornbread, his ‘magic potions’ and fast hands; I got through it like the champ that I am. I’ve never sat so poorly for a tattoo in my life. (the last session was a breeze after I drank the potion!) I’m sure I was better than most.
If you live in New Orleans or ever find yourself there, make your way to Mid City Voodoux Tattoos. My friends own the shop and are the most awesomeness people you will ever meet. True story. <3
It’s the most passionate word in the English language, my favorite, and it’s all I have to say right now. Fuck. Fuck!
My Super Mario Bros. tattoo, it’s on my lower back, not your average “tramp stamp.” I got it as a present on Valentine’s day in 2006 from my ex, James Soares, he also designed it for me. It has nothing to do with him. (thank goodness)! Tattoo artist, my good friend, Richard LaBrosse. Ignore the horrible quality picture, I took it a couple hours after I got it done and I don’t think I have taken another picture of it since.
I had a productive weekend, highlight: getting matching airbrush pink and black dino tattoos with my sixteen year old cousin at Saint Anthony’s Feast. It’s the little things these days that keep me going. I got a lot of funny looks, considering all my real tattoos; nothing beats bonding. It was much better than my Great Uncle Nino’s wake. Rest in peace, I hope you’re giving a great big hug to your little brother for me. <3