Getting My First Tattoo
Getting my first tattoo— go big or go home. I got TWO, I like things in pairs.
I've always wanted a tattoo but was always too scared of judgment. A wise coworker and friend once told me that if you want something, you should have the same idea for over a year before putting it permanently on your body. Well, that’s not exactly what ended up on mine, but I had a similar idea of what and where I wanted it, so I almost followed that guideline.
I started following different tattoo artists on Instagram, checking out local artists and a few from St. Louis. I asked around and got recommendations from people I knew who had tattoos. Eventually, I found an artist whose work I loved (Roxane Meera at New Ink Studio). After mustering the courage to reach out, I scheduled a consultation. The experience was amazing. I enjoyed getting the tattoos—we talked the entire time, getting to know each other. I loved the shop and would highly recommend it—10 out of 10.
Now for the meaning behind my tattoos. I laugh because I have earth, water, and wind represented, but no fire—maybe I’ll have to go back for that. I've always wanted a tattoo on my feet, perhaps because I can see and appreciate the artwork, or maybe because feet ground me to the earth when my mind often drifts into the clouds.
On my left foot, I have dandelions and a ladybug. Dandelions mean so many different things—there are entire books about them. To some, they are food; to others, medicine. In America, most see them as weeds. But to a child blowing the seeds away, they bring joy. For me, dandelions symbolize change—constant evolution. They grow, bloom, transform into a beautiful puffball, and then disperse, starting the cycle anew. That’s how I feel about life—I am always evolving, always changing, trying to better myself.
They also remind me not to take life too seriously. Funny story—I am sure I knew the yellow dandelion and the white puffball were the same plant, but somehow, I had forgot. When someone pointed it out/reminded me, I had this naive, hilarious realization. Just in case anyone else didn’t know—the yellow turns into the white! Nature is amazing. While hiking in Colorado last summer, I was blown away by the size of the dandelions there.
On the dandelion, I have a ladybug, which represents my roots. My mom’s parents used to call me “Katie Bug,” and sometimes my mom did too. It’s funny—most people call me Katie, not Kate, except for a rare few who have since I was little and I answer them without even realizing they called me by something different. But when anyone else calls me “Kate” it doesn’t register I don’t answer sometimes I get angry. Ladybugs also symbolize luck, good fortune, and protection. They remind me to release fear and anxiety and return to trust and happiness.
Now, on my right foot I initially envisioned an intricate image of my higher self in the ocean, surrounded by stars. However, during the consultation, I learned it was too detailed for my foot. Instead of placing it elsewhere, I chose a simpler design—a wave that mirrors the dandelion when my feet are together. To me, they form a heart, though not everyone sees it. Inside the wave, I included the words “Be Her Now.”
Be Her Now is a reminder—no more putting things off until tomorrow. “Tomorrow, I’ll eat right. Tomorrow, I’ll work out. Tomorrow, I will make myself vulnerable” There’s always another tomorrow. But I need to be her now—the woman I want to be, the one I was always afraid to become. So now, I have ocean waves, stars, and my little mantra, reminding me to live in the present.
I definitely underestimated the healing process. The location made it tough—I thought I’d be back to normal in two weeks, but wearing shoes for work that first week was a mistake. My body didn’t love the blue and red ink, and I ended up in Teva sandals or barefoot in the middle of winter. Still, I never regretted them. Now, they’ve scabbed, healed, and I’m wearing shoes again. I may have to touch up my red lady bug though. I’m back to working out, and while I’m lifting lighter weights than before, I’m just grateful to be moving again.
Why the ocean and stars? The ocean feels like home—its endless rhythm, the salt in the air, the way the waves embrace the shore like an old friend. I feel like Moana, drawn to the water not just by curiosity but by something deeper, something unspoken. While the line where the sky meets the sea called her, the water itself calls me. It whispers in gentle waves, roars in powerful tides, and somehow, I always feel understood. It calms and soothes me. When I’m upset, I take a saltwater bath. I hope to live by the ocean one day, so it’s ironic my body resisted the blue ink. This tattoo journey taught me to work with my body rather than fight it—to embrace, not resist. I’ve always loved the stars. I could lie under the night sky for hours. At one point, I even considered a career in astronomy, but realized it was mostly computer work—not for me. Funny enough, now I work behind a screen in pharmacy. Still, I admire people who can navigate by the stars, while I rely on Google Maps and still get lost!
Getting these tattoos was a statement—that I can stand by my decisions, no matter what others think. Telling my dad was nerve-wracking. Many told me not to—just hide them. But this was about standing up for myself. My dad’s generation associates tattoos with the military or rebellion, and I remembered a family member wanting a tattoo years ago—let’s just say that conversation didn’t go well. Before posting about them, I told my dad. I wore shoes to visit him just in case I chickened out. It was the first full day I wore shoes again, and to my surprise, he was fine. I almost wanted to ask, “What have you done with my father?” He’s mellowed with age, which is endearing. He didn’t understand why I thought he’d be upset, and I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t. It just goes to show—we worry about things that never come to pass.
Getting these tattoos was brave. Another step toward proving I can do anything I want, without worrying about what others think. And hopefully, I’ll keep taking more steps forward—with confidence.
