My jewelry is your tattoos

Among my close friends I’m an odd woman out: About four out of every five have at least one tattoo and some have considerably more. Me? None.

I’ve never truly thought that I could pull off a tattoo. Tattoos are “cool” – I’m not. I always thought that I might like to have one because it would be so unexpected of me, and whenever I encounter someone with a tattoo that I wouldn’t expect, I know there’s a great story to go with it.

I’ve toyed with the idea of joining the tattooing trend and getting inked. I’ve made pacts with my mother and several of my friends’ mothers: “If you go, I’ll go with you.” No one has yet made me make good on that promise. It’s a good thing.

Each time I’ve thought almost-seriously about getting a tattoo, I find that I can’t. I can’t decide on something that I would want to add to my body permanently.  I thought about having my lip print tattooed on my ass. It just seemed funny. But that would mean having to pull down my pants at the tattoo parlor, and that’s not going to happen. Then, I thought about getting my company logo done on my back. But I’d really rather have it embroidered on a leather jacket.

Though I’m in the tattoo-less minority, I do have an equivalent: jewels. For each milestone reached, you get a tattoo. I buy jewelry.

We, in both camps, wear our personal journeys; mine just might sparkle a bit more. When I admire a person’s ink, she or he will tell me a story about when and why it came to be – just like I do. “Oh this ring,” I say, “I swiped this out of my friend’s jewelry box, back in NYC. Looks kind of a badass, huh?”

Culturally, tattoos have become almost like vision boards. Need to remind yourself of how far you’ve come? Catalog your tats. My brother has my nephew’s newborn footprints tattooed across his heart. A friend has her animal totems meandering down her sides and across her back. Another, to solidify her rockstar status, had them tattooed on her chest. Two of my friends have “bud” tattoos – one’s knuckles read “bada boom” and the other’s says “bada bing.”

The closest I’ve come to anything like that is a friendship bracelet. Yet each piece tells a story – the ultimate is my engagement ring. When I went to an LGBT Wedding Expo a couple of months back, one vendor offered tattoo wedding rings, skipping the fancy bands. While that’s adorable, there’s absolutely no way that I would get this and miss out on the ultimate jewelry opportunity. Not a chance.

When it comes to jewelry, I can decide which story I want to carry with me that day. If there’s one I’d rather not remember anymore, I just sell, give or throw away the jewelry. A tattoo, on the other hand, is a painful, long and equally-expensive process.

I do appreciate how people get the opportunity to work with the tattoo artist to design something really individual. This is why I’ve decided to start getting custom-made jewelry. An old jeweler client of mine told me about creating custom pendants for a lesbian couple – replicas of their “nether regions” complete with a diamond where one had a piercing.

I know people that are saving up for their “back piece.” I’m saving up for my Andrea Li Designs piece. This is jewelry that makes my jaw drop and drool pool in the corner of my mouth. I borrowed a couple of pieces last year for the Matthew Shepherd Foundation Dinner. I was fighting off drag queens all night. I knew I looked good. These are “statement” pieces. The statement they make is, “I look fucking awesome!”

So, I’ve decided that I will probably stay tattoo-less for life. I will continue to admire yours and giggle giddily when I show you the last piece I just brought back to commemorate my vacation. Vacation pictures? No, sorry, but look at these killer earrings I got.