it's all about the embracing--or--my "back tat"

if your name is gina favata, and you're writing a bakery-girl memoir in Gallway, you know all about this story. but for those of you not falling into this category, allow me to tell you a little tale...

i'll never forget the details of that day in September (or was it October?). i was in Plattsburgh and it was sunny. i think it was the evening, and i made Katie and Gina come with me to meet Mad Pup of Mad Pup Tattoos.

at the ripe age of 18, i was what i would call most of my students today: a punk. i had the manic-panic dyed hair, bleached first of course, for maximum color. i shopped primarily in thrift stores. i owned clothing that was meant to be worn by men. i did drugs. i drank. i wore brown lipstick. i totally dug poetry.

oh yeah, i was effing cool.

when i finally got to college, i kind of became anorexic, sustaining myself on cigarettes and coffee and the occasional french fry. now that i had the hip figure to go with my oversized Mr. Bean-clothing, there was just ONE THING i needed to complete my image.

a back tat.

i needed some mothergrabbing ink, my friends. and everyone on campus knew that Mad Pup was the dude that had maybe helped that Lizard Boy get all his tattoos, or maybe it was the Lion Lady, or Cher, or someone completely different. regardless, i knew he was my go-to man for my punkass completion.

Mad Pup is likely the exact image of who you've already imagined Mad Pup to be. he was a man in his late 40s with long dark hair and a beard. he had a pot belly and wore a tank top with some sort of Harley Davidson graphics on the front, tucked into belted pants that sat right below his round belly. and of course he had tattoos all over his arms. he was quite intimidating, but i was too amped to care.

so, i picked out the first pretty design from one of their books and plopped myself, face-down, onto Mad Pup's tat chair.

he didn't speak too much, but when he did, his words were laced with dry humor. gina would peak in occassonally and ease my discomfort with her nervous laugh and a quick photo of the procedure. when i felt comfortable enough, i even started chatting with them. a song came on the classic rock station that Inkmaster Pup had playing out of his beat-up radio.

"i love this song!" i started singing along....see the thorn twist in your side...i waiiit.....for you....

"what song is this?" Mr. Pup inquired.

"ummm, U2?! you don't know these guys?!" i was shocked. he had to have been joking.

Mad Pup was apparently not joking, and did not appreciate my mocking his yuppie-band ignorance. "You better watch your tone to a man who has a needle in your back."

i heard Gina's nervous laugh and her subsequent scurrying out of the room.

i quickly apologized and he let out a mischevious laugh.
there was not much more conversation between Mad Pup and myself after that exchange.

that's the story of my back tat.
i don't like it anymore, but at least its connotations have changed in modern day to symbolize an extremely worldly and intelligent female. i'd hate to be seen as someone with a very high bangability quotient.