A Tribute in Ink

August 23, 2025

Woah. I never imagined I would ever get a tattoo in my life. Considering how I was raised and knowing my mom was never a fan, it seemed completely out of the question. We lived a pretty conservative lifestyle, so tattoos were something I never seriously considered growing up. Honestly, it always felt a little rebellious, which was kind of exciting in theory, but also totally not my style, or so I thought.

I still remember a trip my mom and I took to the Bay to visit my brother back in 2021(?). The night we arrived, we went out to dinner. While waiting for our table, I noticed a small tattoo on my brother’s forearm. It was Totoro from Studio Ghibli. My jaw practically dropped. I immediately turned to my mom, silently gesturing at his arm, expecting her reaction, but she just looked away. Seriously, Mom. She did not say a single word about it. I was half-expecting an eye-roll, half-expecting a lecture, but instead there was nothing.

Back at the hotel later, I could not let it go. I had to know what she was thinking. I decided to tattletale on my brother, just like I used to as a kid. Her response was, “I know. I have eyes, too.” What? I asked if she was annoyed or upset that he got a tattoo, and she calmly said, “No. Why would I be? It is his body, his choice. He is an adult. Having a tattoo does not make him a bad person.” The funniest part is that she actually thought it was a Pokémon, Pikachu, and said it was cute. Close enough.

That conversation stuck with me. It made me realize that maybe getting a tattoo was not the rebellious, taboo act I had imagined it to be. Maybe one day I could get one too. Despite a common misconception that I do not like tattoos, I have always loved them as a form of art. I just never knew what I wanted to get. For years, I also kept the idea a secret because I was too scared of what people might think. Tattoos are permanent, after all, and I wanted something meaningful, something I could look at every day and feel proud of. For a long time, I did nothing.

Then came my 24th birthday, my golden birthday. I decided it was time for my FIRST tattoo. I wanted a tattoo in remembrance of my mom and as a tribute to my little family. I wanted it to be meaningful, personal, and symbolic of the love that shaped me. I reached out to a local tattoo artist, shared my idea, and they were thrilled to bring it to life.

Growing up, I remember my mom loving Winnie the Pooh. She even associated each of us with a character. She was Eeyore, I was Pooh, and my brother was Tigger. Our childhood rooms were full of stuffed animals and merchandise from the franchise. There were hundreds of WTP toys surrounding us. For the tattoo, I chose these characters to honor our family and the bond we share. I placed a halo above Eeyore to represent my mom. The flowers are our birth flowers, two for each of us, symbolizing our connection and individuality at the same time.

Sitting in the tattoo studio, I felt a mix of nerves and excitement. It was not just about getting ink on my skin. It was about carrying my mom and my family with me permanently. It was about courage and choice. For a first tattoo, it was perfect. Every time I look at it, I see more than just art. I see love, history, and memory. I see my family and the person who shaped me into who I am today.

The tattoo has also sparked conversations I never expected. People often assume I am anti-tattoo or too conservative for one, but that could not be further from the truth. It has become a way to share my story, to explain my relationship with my mom, and to honor the values she instilled in me. Every compliment reminds me not only of the design but also of the love and thought behind it.

Getting this tattoo was more than just marking my skin. It was a declaration. It was me saying that I am brave, that I am connected, that I carry my family with me, and that I carry my mom with me. Most importantly, it was a way to transform grief and love into something tangible, lasting, and deeply personal. I can look at it every day and remember the person who chose me, the family who shaped me, and the courage I am discovering in myself.

… Would my mom be happy that her little goody-two-shoes daughter got a tattoo? Maybe not, but I know she loves me no matter what.

Until then,

Katie