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Why I Decided to Get a Tattoo at 40
So, here’s the scoop: getting a tattoo at 40 wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing for me. I had actually been mulling it over for nearly a year since hitting that big milestone birthday. It was part of a personal bucket list—things I had pushed aside because I was too concerned about what others would think. “Who am I to write a book?” and “Do good girls really get tattoos?” were just a couple of the nagging thoughts I had in my 20s and 30s. But as I turned 40, that inner voice quieted down a bit.
When I mentioned my tattoo plans to a friend, they joked, “Is this your midlife crisis?” I snapped back, “No way!” But really, what is a midlife crisis? Is it when you realize you’ve spent your life following a set of unwritten rules only to watch everything you planned crumble? Maybe it’s about putting others first for so long that you forget about your own dreams? Looking back on lost loves and missed opportunities, you start to wonder if there’s still time left for more? Alright, fine—maybe it is.
I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted my tattoo to be, even creating a secret Pinterest board full of inspiration. But as my 40th year went by, I kept putting it off. Finally, as summer rolled around, I figured it was now or never. I found an artist online whose work I admired and reached out for a consultation.
Walking into the tattoo shop, I felt a bit out of place in my yoga pants and Starbucks cup while the heavily tattooed staff looked on with amusement. It was like that old Sesame Street skit—one of these things is not like the other. But then Tara, the artist I chose, greeted me with warmth and reassurance. After sharing my sketches and ideas, I put down a deposit for my appointment a month later, feeling a sense of resolve.
As the date approached, I started to doubt myself. Would my family approve? What if it changed how my friends saw me? But then I thought, who really cares? The biggest lesson I’ve learned in 40 years is that no one is really paying that much attention to me. Most people are too caught up in their own lives to scrutinize mine. Even if they did, I can’t change their opinions anyhow.
So there I was, lying face down on a vinyl table, taking deep breaths through the pain. “Is it worse than childbirth?” a fellow client asked. I responded, “Well, it won’t take as long!” It hit me then that I had been looking at this all wrong. Sure, a tattoo is a permanent mark, but my skin already tells stories—stretch marks from having two kids, scars from childhood mishaps. At least a tattoo is a choice I’m making.
Tara shared a sweet story about her oldest client—a 76-year-old grandmother who got her first tattoo of an owl on pancakes, surprising her family at a reunion. If Grandma Owl could do it, so could I! Tara was even going to tattoo her own mom soon. I hadn’t told my own mom about my plans; I wasn’t sure how she’d react. My daughter, 11, immediately parroted back my advice to her: “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to know!” Meanwhile, my 8-year-old son shrugged and said, “Fine, but it’s gonna hurt.”
As my appointment neared, I tried to convince my daughter again. She said thoughtfully, “Mama, you’re going to get old and wrinkly, and then your tattoo will look bad.” I considered her words. Sure, I might regret this decision down the line, but I already have a collection of regrets filed away neatly, labeled “people I hurt” and “chances I didn’t take.” The folder titled “things left undone” was getting thinner, and that’s what mattered to me.
So I told her, “If my biggest regret when I die is a tattoo, then I’ll have lived a good life.”
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In summary, my journey to getting a tattoo at 40 was about reclaiming my life and making a choice that was entirely mine. It was a bold step but one that reflected my growth and acceptance.