My Whyyy-yyyyy-yy

Yes, I know Annie Lennox would be proud of that title. But musical distraction aside, that's not what I'm here to talk about today...

I'm here to talk about my "why". WHY I got into LuLaRoe, WHY I am here today, WHY I'm writing a blog post...

So where to begin? A little background, if you will...

I grew up in Northern California for the first 20 yrs of my life. I LOVED it there. I still do. I miss the ocean like crazy now. And when I lived there, I was all about music. I have been a musician since the age of four (vocal and instrumental), and while I lived there, that was my life. I played in bands, quartets, sang in choirs, taught saxophone lessons... and, at that point, I was going to teach music. Because I loved doing it.

So I moved to Colorado to go to college, with the thought of being a music teacher in my mind. And that went well for a few years until I realized that I didn't know if being a teacher was right for me at the time. So I graduated with a Bachelor's in Technical Journalism with a Public Relations concentration. And a music minor. *insert breath here* So now you may understand the writing a blog post a little more... ;) But I got into writing because I loved doing that too.

So I did some PR/media relations stuff, while keeping my job at a shoe store, because I LOVE shoes. And clothes too. From a very young age, I've been putting outfits together and playing dress up (that still hasn't changed). Because I loved it. Hey, anyone sensing a theme here... ? ;)

Flash forward to seven years ago. I came back to Colorado after hanging out in North Carolina for a bit. My life had hit a wall of sorts, and I decided to go to massage school. Because, honestly, it was shorter than PT school. What I didn't expect was for me to fall head over heels in love with it. Seriously, every little bit. And it was definitely one of my callings. I was good at it, people wanted to come see me because I taught them about their bodies, and my enthusiasm for the trade was obviously clear. And all was going SO well until...

October 29, 2014. It's kinda like my D Day. I was in a horrible car accident. One you don't forget quickly or ever will. I thought I could bounce back like any other day. I mean, I HAD to work. But something else intervened when I heard the words I'll never forget: "You dissected your vertebral artery. You need to take a break and rest or you could have a stroke." I was 38 at the time. And I wasn't about to have a stroke at 38.

I rested, I recouped. I went back to work three months later. But I still wasn't me. I worked for a year after I was cleared, and then, about a year ago, the mental and physical things associated with an major accident came out in force. So I was forced to take some time off from massaging. As much as I hated doing it, I NEEDED to do it. To get myself back. The girl I was pre-10/29/14.

So about six months ago, I was introduced to LuLaRoe by a friend from high school, who was starting her own boutique. I loved the clothes and I loved how I could mix and match things. And wear Converse with EVERYTHING (and I do). Mandy (my now sponsor) said that we bonded over "Carly's and Converse", and there is no truer statement. And as I saw what fun she was having, and how their clothing even fit MY body ( I thought my legs were going to break the TC leggings), I thought this might be an option, especially after finding out that I had torn my labrum in my shoulder and that going back to massage was going to be a long road...

So I signed my contract on 9/11/16, and I cried. Not because I wasn't excited about the life change, but that's what it was, a LIFE CHANGE. I had to put something I loved on the back burner and I didn't know how to do that. And it was scary and it was heart-wrenching. But it was for the best.

So as I sit here, contemplating my "why", there were a few different reasons "why" I became a consultant...

1) The money. I wanted to be able to pay my own bills again. To have some independence again.

2) To help women feel as beautiful as I do in LuLaRoe's clothing. As a plus size woman, I used to hate to go shopping because even "plus sized" things didn't fit right. Maybe a few stores figured it out, but not all of them. And when I tried on LLR's clothing, I immediately felt beautiful. And it FIT! I just wanted to give that back. Sizes don't matter- it's what's in your heart that does. And I love bringing that out with clothing. Whether it's telling someone she looks amazing, or helping her style something, the minute I see that light come out, I immediately know that I picked the right path for myself at this point in my life.

3) To live. There are a couple of different meanings to this one. Obviously, I want to make money so I can live. So I can afford things. Do things. But the other meaning is more personal. When that doctor told me that I could have a stroke (the artery is now healed), it woke me up. You see, I've always been one hard worker. To the point of overdoing it sometimes. So this whole thing forced me to slow down and really examine my life. And while I still have flare ups, both mentally and emotionally, being a consultant lets me slow down and still work. I am ALWAYS working on balancing this aspect of my life, but maybe now, I will. So in every definition of the word, I want to "LIVE". I don't want to redissect that artery. I don't want to get so stressed that the lingering symptoms cause a stroke or something worse. I don't want to live to work; I want to work to live. And being a consultant and working for myself allows me this luxury. To take a breath when I need it. To not stress my shoulder so much. It's something that I didn't know I needed in my life, and something that I am truly blessed to be a part of. And I love it. :) And slowly but surely, that pre-10/29/14 girl is starting to surface again. And I'm happy she decided to join the party again because I sure did miss her...



Thank you for reading my mini-novel. It may be long, but it came from the heart. Every last word.

The day that changed me forever...

October 29th is now a day that I feel coming before it turns the date on the calendar. My anxiety, my neck, my shoulder- they all flare up leading up to Oct. 29th. Muscle memory at its finest. It used to be a happy date. My late grandmother's birthday is Oct. 29th. So is my college roommate's. And while I know it'll be that way again (it being a happy date, that is), I also know that it won't be this year...

So much has changed in two years. I went from thinking that I survived that accident with minor cuts and scrapes to learning that if my seatbelt had hit me two vertebrae higher, then I possibly could have had a stroke and died. That random muscle pain I felt off and on in my left shoulder? That was a torn labrum. The reason I still get dizzy and nauseous pretty consistently? My vestibular system pretty much needs to be reset. Oh, and you can get a cataract in your eye from blunt force trauma because I now have one. Not to mention my crossing eyes and speech that can still be impaired. And that's just the physical part of it. Add in some anxiety, depression, PTSD, more flashbacks than I can count, and countless tears and you have one f*$!ed up individual for the past two years. And I obviously had every reason to be that way.

But for the first time in two years, I feel like the tide is about to turn. I feel like I am moving forward with my recovery instead of moving forward, stopping, moving back, and then moving forward again. I feel like I am in the therapies I need to be in. I feel like maybe the fog is starting to lift. And maybe I can celebrate my guardian-angel-of-a-grandmother's birthday again, who saved her granddaughter not once, but twice (second one being 20 years ago) on or a day before her own damn birthday. I will definitely hear about this in the afterlife...

Thank you for letting me vent and write. The journalism major in me must still be there a bit. :)  I wrote this to help with the healing. And honestly, I wrote it so that everyone else will know what a big deal something like a car accident can be. Get everything checked out. Don't be afraid to fight for those tests and ask all the questions you can. Take all the time in the world to heal. We live in such a "go,go,go" society that we think that getting back to our lives sooner will help us after something like this. But sometimes it's to your detriment. Listen to your body, mind and spirit, and all three will let you know when it's time to return to reality. But if you don't heal first, then you can't heal anyone else. Take it from the healer herself. :)  And regarding that turning tide? Stay tuned... :) 

I remember...

This was written on October 17, 2014, 25 years after this fateful day. Posted it on FB and was told I should preserve this memory so that's exactly what I'm doing. :) 


I remember being home alone while my mom picked up my brother. I remember walking down the hallway to the living room to see what time the World Series was supposed to start. I remember never turning on the World Series because at 5:04 pm, the whole Bay Area came to a screeching halt due to a 6.9 earthquake. I remember hearing the rumble before I felt the shaking. I remember standing in the doorway between our kitchen and living room, watching as the kitchen cupboards were thrown open by the sheer force of the quake and the good china was dumped into the sink. I remember how it seemed like a year before the shaking stopped. I remember hearing nothing but the rumbling. When the earth literally stopped shaking, I remember seeing our entertainment center only being held up by its glass doors, right where I had stood just 30 seconds before. I remember the numerous aftershocks, some almost as big as the quake itself. I remember my best friend running down my street with her dogs in tow and she and I sticking together until our parents got home. I remember the hutch in my room toppling over and all of my Sweet Valley High books being strewn everywhere. I remember camping out in our family room because we had no power and no school for two days. And I remember that when we finally went back to school, all we could talk about was the earthquake. I remember seeing the TV and the newspapers and thinking how San Francisco looked like a war zone. And I remember that when they finally resumed the World Series, which would result in a 4-0 rout of the San Francisco Giants by my Oakland A's, it seemed to bring a sense of normalcy to an area that so desperately needed it at the time. I will never forget October 17, 1989, and I'm pretty OK with that because if I remember, it means I survived the quake when other people did not. So thanks for the rumbling warning, Mother Nature, because who knows what would have happened if I had been standing where that entertainment center had fallen...

Dear Guardian Angel...

I wrote this on November 5th, a week after I was in a massive car accident. I still feel this way, six weeks later...



Dear Guardian Angel:

You know who you are. You're the one who saved my life a week ago. You're the one who saw the other car. You're the one who knew how hard the hit would be. You're the one who angled my car so that I would only graze the car in front of me. You're the one who closed my eyes so that the broken glass from my shattered back windshield wouldn't end up in my eyes. My bra, yes, but not my eyes. You're the one who pulled my foot off the brake so my car would move instead of getting smashed between two cars. You're the one who broke my seat so that I spent most of the ride across two lanes of traffic on my back. You're the one who broke my seat, shoving me backwards instead of into my steering wheel, which may have resulted in a broken arm or forearm, something NOT good for a massage therapist. You're the one who kept my sense of humor and sarcasm intact during the whole ordeal. You're the one who figured I was strong enough (physically and mentally) to handle the aftermath of such a serious accident. And you're the one who resides on my left arm, in black and white ink, unscathed other than a little muscle weakness, ready to save me again...

And today, a week later, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for being awake to react so quickly. Thank you for making it so much better than it could have been. Thank you for waking me up to the more important things in life. And thank you for saving a healer's life so that she can possibly heal again...

My permanent guardian angel. Tattoo done by Adam Rose at Fallen Owl Tattoo in Lakewood, CO.

I laughed, I cried... and I enjoyed every minute of it-Story of a back piece, The Conclusion

I had to wait a while to write this last part. Part of it was because of my schedule. Part of it because I was in shock. Yep, in shock. It was such an intricate process. So many sessions over a certain amount of time. And when it was first discussed, I was warned that it was a process that would require a lot of time and money. That I understood, especially since I knew how far Adam was booking out. Only a mere five months at the time. I also thought that since I was the girl who powered through a six-hour upper arm piece, this would go SO fast. Yeah, not so much...

From the seal cover-up to the Golden Gate Bridge to the trolley car to the mountains and the trees to the Giant Dipper to the carousel horse and, finally, to the poppies. And let's not forget the fog that ties it all together because what would Northern California be without fog? :) My "quick" little back piece ended up being 10 sessions (if memory serves) and around 24 hours (give or take) of table/chair time, with those individual sessions ranging anywhere from an hour (which shocked both of us because short sessions were never our thing) to four hours. That's one whole DAY of either sitting or laying down and letting someone voluntarily poke at me with multiple needles. Glutton for punishment or did I give someone a canvas for which to put his art? Guess that depends on how you look at it...

But through this drawn-out process, I actually managed to learn things about myself, my body, my artist, the whole tattooing process and so much more:

• First off, I have one of the higher pain tolerances of anyone I know and, being a massage therapist who does a lot of structural/therapeutic work, I also know my body extremely well. So I thought my back was going to be one of the least painful places to get tattooed. Until I remembered that the tissue around ribs can be a little sensitive. And sometimes the spine. And the bra line. And over scar tissue. Oh, and did I mention that my muscles SUCK because I massage for a living? So I will be the first one to admit that the pain (while still totally tolerable) was more than I anticipated in certain areas. And mainly on my left. Definitely the more sensitive side. And while he could have tattooed my traps all day and I wouldn't have felt a thing, my ribs and those dreaded love handles were a totally different story...
• Magnesium is a godsend when it comes to having to relax your muscles. I took it from about session #7 on or so and I felt the needles less and it relaxed me at the same time. And it didn't affect the healing process at all. In fact, it might have actually helped it. And another thing about hanging out in a tattoo studio for 24 hours or so? It was kind of a refresher course for me (who learned a lot about skin and the healing process in massage school), being around people who know just as much if not more about it. 
• I used my muscle knowledge and every meditation technique I could think of to zone out so that it was a pleasant process for both myself and Adam. Can't say I did the best job at times, but for the most part, I was half-asleep (while still totally conscious of what was happening around me) for most of those 10 sessions. I mean, come on, I have to ground myself for a living. Doing it for a tattoo session is not much different really. And yes, Adam, that's why I didn't talk much. :) Also I realized (and now I'm totally giving away all my secrets) that if I relaxed the muscle he was working on as much as I could (sometimes it was nearly impossible due to how I was sitting or laying), it hurts less and it's easier to breathe through. Also, if you exhale as the needle is going in while you are getting rib work, you're not resisting the needle as much, making it a much more "pleasant" process. Leave it to me to relate massage to tattooing. Hey, both of them involve a lot of the same things, just instead of a needle, I use a very pointy elbow. ;)
• The client and artist have to collaborate together in order for this to work out the way it needs to. He has to be happy with what he is putting on me and I have to be happy with what he's putting on me. Obviously, it's my back and I have to live with it. But he has to be happy with it because it's HIS artwork I'm putting it on my body and he wants to show it off and he wants me to show it off as well. So it's like one happy tattoo "marriage" and I was his tattoo "wife" for a few months... ;) 
• People watching at a tattoo studio is entertaining as hell. As well as hearing all the stories and truly getting to know the personalities of everyone at the shop. They were always friendly, but they got friendlier when you brought them cookies. Even the artists you've never come in with all of a sudden know who you are. ;) And while you conversed with and observed everyone in the shop, obviously the artist working on you was kind of the main focus. So what did I notice about Adam? Don't worry, hon, I'll be nice...
• He's a slight perfectionist, which is an awesome thing in my book, Because when you think about it, do you really want someone NOT detail-oriented or a perfectionist putting something permanently on your body? I wouldn't. And if he is always looking for somehow to make it better, then he's becoming better in the process. Although, that did make for some "focused" sessions and I did want to tell him to breathe a few times... ;) 
• In the year that he was consistently working on me, I saw him grow leaps and bounds as an artist. He was always an exceptional artist (and that's in my totally unbiased, non-artist opinion), but throughout the whole process (hell, even dating back to the angel), he just got better. Not just on me, but on other tattoos as well. And there is something I absolutely love about seeing someone who loves what he does for a living just keep growing within that profession, all the while still loving what he does. 
• As exceptional of an artist as he is, he's just as exceptional as a business owner. Oh yeah, he kind of owns Fallen Owl too. ;) That's always been a big thing in my book because I spent way too many years in management and customer service and I've seen the good and the bad when it comes to owners/managers. And he's one of the better ones out there. And no, I'm not just kissing his ass. ;) While you are in very close proximity to this man for 24 hours or so, you notice how he manages and deals with customers and employees alike. Hell, he talks about the shop and tattooing so much, I found it very easy to slip back into my old PR habits and promote the shop easily because he gave me the ammo to work with. And all this time I just thought he was spewing a lot of hot air, which was also true. :)
• He will be the first person to yell at me for NOT mentioning the rest of his shop in this blog. Because they are a family. A very happy and severely disfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. :) And you can tell that they make each other better just by being in the same shop. When a business is truly firing on all cylinders (and the shop has truly grown in every way since I started coming to Fallen Owl), everything is just...better. Adam, Freddie, Sherley, Chris, and now Angell are all in another league when it comes to artists. And Miss Kasja holds down the front desk and everything else in the shop. The vibe has always been awesome in the shop (I laughed constantly during most of my sessions) and that helps their clients be more relaxed the minute they walk in the door. 

I love everything that I learned in this whole process, but I think the most eye-opening thing happened during my last session. I pretty much knew that we would finish it that day. I had no other appointments on his schedule and did I mention that he's now booking out until next year??!! As in 2015. And this was at the end of May. So I knew that we would probably push to get it done that day. While there were some painful spots and I had to really concentrate on breathing a few times, I all of a sudden found myself crying on the table. But not from the pain because I honestly didn't feel it right then. It was an emotional release. There was a lot of built-up emotion from the whole process. The stress of not knowing what we were going to do until the day of at times, the elation after seeing each section of it get finished... The emotions you feel for the artwork, the artist, the shop, as well as the emotion behind the meaning of the artwork itself. I mean, a major piece of my childhood is now permanently on my back. Like until I die. That's HUGE. And as someone who feels everything with her whole heart, that hit me hard. Especially when I realized that it was over. Like I could sleep on my back again over. And I could shower with my back to the water again over. For about a week after my last session, I went through a mourning of sorts. Shock, denial, sadness, giddiness. While I was happy that we were finally done, I had put SO much of my energy into it that I had severe withdrawals when it WAS done. Wait, I don't have to think about it anymore? I don't have to wait a week for everything to heal? I don't have to say, yeah, we're almost done, anymore? Weird... And I may be the only person in the Universe who feels this way, but I kind of doubt that I am. Because it was a true life process. And life processes can sometimes tear you down to the raw core of everything, just to open your eyes and make you learn something from it.

And I learned something huge about myself. I am a hell of a lot stronger than I think I am. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I am one tough cookie. No, not one of the ones I brought them. ;) I knew this in the back of my brain, but I guess I needed a very large reminder in the form of a very colorful mural on my back. And since it's a tribute to the state I will always love, I also have a reminder of where I came from and who I really am. I'm a Californian, damnit. Regardless of how many years I spend in Colorado, I will ALWAYS be a California girl. It's who I am. The girl who tears up when she sees the ocean or the Golden Gate Bridge. Or who still giggles when she sees the Giant Dipper's rolling curves or when she gets the ring in the clown's mouth on the carousel at the Boardwalk. Who proudly states that she's from the Golden State, even when the Coloradoans are bitching that the Californians and Texans have taken over the state. And I love that me getting this back piece has brought me back to that. So this may have been a painful process. It may have been an emotional process. But I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. I went in for a back piece and somehow got my life back at the same time. I will never be able to repay Adam for that, but I know that I will be forever grateful...

Thank you for reading this truly lengthy conclusion to something that has consumed my life for the better part of a year.  I really hope you take something out of it. And if nothing else, I hope you go to Fallen Owl for your next tattoo. ;)

Facebook post- "So two and a half years ago, I walked into his tattoo shop, saw his work in passing and thought, "maybe he'll do something on me at some point..." A year later, he gave me my most complimented piece (my angel). And now, yet another year later, he gave me the back piece only he could give me. A big, bold, colorful tribute to the craziness that is Northern California. And proof that a San Jose girl and a Santa Cruz boy can get along.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Adam! Better than I ever could have imagined and can't imagine anyone else doing it. I absolutely adore you and your shop and you proved that stumbling into your shop two years ago was the right stumble.  Oh, and might I add, go see everyone at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Denverites!"

Artwork by Adam Rose of Fallen Owl Tattoo

Story of a back piece, Part #2 - I like the attention, but I don't like the attention...

So when we started this back piece a mere 10 months ago, I thought, Ok, I'm going to get some amazing artwork and I'm going to have a kick-ass tribute to my home state from my shoulders to my waistline. And I've also thought this with all of my other tattoos as well. It's always been about the artists and their work and if it just so happens to be on my body, then so be it. But what I didn't realize was the attention that comes with it. And that attention only increases when you have a very, very, very good artist working on you...

I've done things my whole life that have involved me getting a lot of attention. I was a performing arts kid from the age of four. Singing, dancing, acting. I was in plays, musicals, bands, you name it. I sang solos, performed in groups. Even when I was in sports, I was always on a team (1991 Softball World Series runner-up, baby!) that garnered a lot of attention. And while I LOVED being a part of all of this and wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, I was doing for the LOVE of everything, not for the attention. I liked hearing the compliments and the congratulatory comments, but I'm also a severe perfectionist. I was probably focusing on how I screwed up my solo or how I could have done better in some way. I have grown out of that a little bit, but it's definitely still there. ;) So as much as I loved doing things that required the spotlight at times, I really, really, really didn't like the attention they brought...

And I don't know why I thought this would be different with my tattoos. Only in the past couple of years have I started getting visible tattoos. I've been lucky enough to work in a field and for a boss who doesn't seem to mind if I show up with another tattoo on my arm. Believe me, I tested that very early on in my tenure at my current job. ;) I also started getting work from better artists a couple of years ago (see my previous blog on Fallen Owl Tattoo). And it started with small, random comments about the line work and the color on the ones on my forearms. Then the angel showed up. And the beach scene on my forearm. When it was not warm outside and I was wearing sleeves, nobody even noticed that this innocent-looking white girl (notice I said innocent-LOOKING) was hiding a decent amount of ink on her arms. But then, it started to get warmer, the sleeves got shorter, and all of a sudden, I was getting stopped in every place in every state, getting complimented on my tattoo work. At first I thought, well, this is kind of cool. You never know how people nowadays are going to take your tattoos, so the fact that they were liking them was a total positive in my book. And they were stopping me from across a store and across parking lots. Literally. I was in California last summer for my brother's wedding and I was walking into a Starbucks. I swear I was a good 50-75 feet away from these two guys sitting outside and as I got up to them, I got stopped and asked where I had gotten the angel done. The guy was a little mad when I said Colorado. :) But he had seen her WAY before I walked up to him. And that was my third tattoo compliment in about five minutes that day. My forearm piece (because it's so original and colorful) gets quite a bit of attention as well. And I didn't think my back piece would get a lot ('cause it's mostly covered up), but I wore a partially backless shirt one day and yep... I was asked to break out pictures of the whole piece or to strip down so they could see it. I obviously choose the former...There was a "viewing party" of sorts the last time I was at my salon.

Now the purpose of this is not to slam everyone who compliments my tattoos or tell them to stop. Not even close. I understand that it comes with the territory and that I will continue to get attention for my work until I'm old and wrinkly. And I love my tattoos because they are a part of who I am and always will be. And most of the people who compliment them are super sweet and sincere about it. But that's just it. I like the attention, but I don't like the attention. I like that they get attention, but shy away from the attention I get because it's not really about me. I LOVE the fact that my artists are getting recognized for their work and that I say their names twice as much as I say my own. I LOVE being a walking billboard for the tattoo shop that I have grown to absolutely love. And anytime they need me to show off their work and support the shop, I'm totally there. BUT I did not realize the amount of attention I was in for when I started this whole process. I did not realize the attention me AND my body would both get. Call me naive, call me an introvert, but I've just been in it for the artwork and what it means to me the whole time. And with every, "Thank you very much. Yeah, I have an amazing artist, don't I?", there's also a shy, introverted, perfectionist, self-conscious girl who cares more about getting her artists noticed than getting herself noticed. Who is silently thinking, "Yeah, but if I only lost my lovehandles or my tricep jiggle, they could take a better picture of it or the tattoo itself would just look better on it.." I've been like that my whole life. What this comes down to is body image and, while massage school was a severe wake-up call to me in that department and I'm a lot more comfortable in my skin now, it's still there...And this whole process has been bringing it to the forefront more than I thought it would. 

Yes, I know I asked for this the minute I asked for the tattoo work. I asked for the attention to the artwork and to my body. But that's where I'm stuck in the dichotomy of this whole thing. Even though I may not embrace the attention or be used to it, I'm going to HAVE to get used to people staring at my tattoos and my body. Because I won't stop telling people my artists are awesome or try to drum up business for them. But I guess I didn't realize how much the whole tattoo process would force me to deal with body image issues I've been dealing with since high school. So the girl who doesn't like attention (especially to her body which will never be perfect and I know that) is going to have to learn to live with it. So bring on the compliments, the smiles and the gasps. Hell, tell me my artist sucks if you really want to get a rise out of me. ;) But with summer coming and my sleeves getting shorter and shorter, I'm ready to show off any of the work that I can show off, within reason obviously. ;)

Tattoo and artwork done by Adam Rose at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Lakewood, CO

Tattoo and artwork done by Sherley Escribano at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Lakewood, CO

Tattoo and artwork done by Freddie Arroyo at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Lakewood, CO

Tattoo and artwork done by Adam Rose at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Lakewood, CO

Story of a back piece: Part #1- The cover-up covered up so much more than the tattoo itself...

When I started thinking about getting a tattoo back piece done, I had two existing tattoos on my back already. So I knew that either my artist would have to work around them or he/she would have to be a killer cover up artist (luckily, he is) and at least cover up one of them. But when I thought of one of them getting covered, I didn't really think about the significance of the whole thing...until now.

The one on my upper back is a pair of drama masks, a #10 and a pink breast cancer ribbon. I got it the year my mom passed the 10 year mark for being cancer free. Not the best tattoo in the world, but my mom loved it, so obviously, it wasn't getting covered. We did make it look prettier though. :) But then, there was the sun and moon tribal (or as my artist called it, "the fucking tribal") on my lower back...

I got this in 2003 at Skibo's Tattoo when I still lived in Fort Collins. Actually 11 years ago this month if memory serves (and we all know my thing for the #11). I wanted the sun and moon because I love the sun (I AM a California girl after all) and I am a night owl so the moon is my friend as well. I know, shitty explanation for a tattoo, but I was 26 at the time and could care less. The artist I got had just finished her apprenticeship. Oh, and did I mention that I had had back surgery just four months prior to this. Recipe for an amazing tattoo? Riiiiight. I can hear my current artist laughing and/or swearing at me from here... :) I put it just above the aforementioned scar tissue; I was at least smart enough to not put it directly over the scar tissue. But the next two hours were two of the more painful of my life. And not just because she was a brand-new tattoo artist, tattooing through an obscene amount of scar tissue. That was the physical pain side of it, but the emotional pain that she was helping get rid of was a whole different story...

I was 26, working corporate retail, just had back surgery to help take the pain away...and the pain was coming back. Two months prior to the tattoo, I was diagnosed with panic disorder. Two full-blown panic attacks in under a month. And with this also came a severe case of depression. I mean, I used to be an athlete, for Christ's sake, and I was being deduced to a panicky, pain-ridden mess??!! So I figured if I found something else to cause me pain, then maybe it would take away the other one... Fucked up philosophy, I know, but I wasn't exactly thinking clearly at the time. And after two hours of her digging into my scar tissue, the pain did go away for a bit. But only because it had gotten numbed...

Flash-forward 10+ years. The panic attacks and depression are well behind me. I'm extremely happy with my life. I'm still trying to get back to that athlete prowess. I still have back pain, but I'm a therapeutic (read: severe deep tissue) massage therapist for a living. If my back didn't hurt, I would be a little concerned. But that tribal was still on my low back. 

So last August, the first part of my back piece (a tribute to my beloved Northern California) was to cover up the tribal. An adorable seal pup was chosen as the appropriate vessel for both the Nor Cal theme and the cover-up. And this time my artist had to go through the scar tissue from the back surgery AND the tribal tattoo. And yes, it did hurt in certain spots (my tolerance has gotten WAY higher over the past 11 years), but this time, it was just the physical pain of the needle going through scar tissue. That's it. I actually had to laugh a couple of days later because I realized that by going through said scar tissue, he broke it up.  I felt nothing in my lower back for the first time in I don't know how many years. The physical pain was gone and, without knowing it, the emotional pain that I felt 11 years ago had gotten "covered up" too. The seal covered up everything that tribal stood for, but that was an amazing thing. The seal brings a huge smile to my face every time I see him and he also moves when I move, which just makes me giggle. I am no longer that girl who got the sun and moon tribal 11 years ago. Not even close. In fact, thank GOD I don't have to see that tribal anymore because, quite honestly, the sweet, adorable seal pup is a lot closer to my personality than the tribal ever was.  And that's the cool thing about the amazing tattoo artists nowadays. Practically anything can be covered up, including "the fucking tribal"... :)

***My cover-up "magician" in question is Mr. Adam Rose, owner and artist at Fallen Owl Tattoo in Lakewood, CO. You should totally check out his work sometime 'cause he's slightly freaking awesome. :)