A couple of years ago I had a bright idea – myself and 4 women who had been best friends for over 30 years should get matching friendship symbol tattoos to celebrate that fact. 

Then I changed my mind. 

Then I changed it back. 

There is a back story…

In my 20s I was in Africa and got henna drawings on my hand and foot. I really, really loved them, but they were of course temporary. I mourned their fading. 

I strongly considered getting a foot tattoo as a result, but the practical (sometimes slightly boring and conservative) side of me kept rearing its head.  

You see, I had worked as a radiation therapist at a cancer hospital and that meant I interacted with many older people, some of whom had tattoos. There were not many tattoos on 80 year olds that still looked great.  

And what if I regretted it?  Unlike most things I was willing to try, a tattoo was permanent (laser tattoo removal was not a thing I was aware of).  

Then there was the tattoo artist who told me that the foot was the most painful place to get tattooed.  

So I didn’t do it. 

As time went on, more and more friends and family got tattoos. Some I loved, some not so much. I felt a mix of envy and regret, but didn’t join their ranks. 

Then I had a conversation with someone about tattoos that had special meaning. An example was a friend who had her scar from breast cancer tattooed into a beautiful image. 

Which got me thinking… 

What if my friends and I got a tattoo to celebrate our amazing friendship, still strong almost 30 years after we left high school? Wouldn’t that be a wonderful celebration?  

So in a moment of madness I asked on Facebook messenger what they thought of the idea. 

I immediately changed my mind, and deleted the message. Within seconds. But it turns out that only deletes it from your screen, not theirs!  

4 really enthusiastic agreements came back to me. Oh oh. 

I explained that I was unsure and they gave me time to think about it. 

I researched, as is my tendency, and I found a gorgeous symbol, and my inside right ankle seemed to call out for some artwork.  

Justifications came to mind – my skin was not pristine. It has scars, many moles and freckles, blemishes and wrinkles. A tattoo was not marring a perfect canvas. I was in my mid (maybe even late!) 40’s, old enough to do what I wanted without worrying about my sister realising I was not 100% a goody-two-shoes. 

So I said yes. And we booked in to get it done a week later. 

Each day of that week I woke up with a different feeling about the coming tattoo. Excitement one day. Horror the next. I actually had a nightmare about it (needles, blood, and regrets were all involved). Then I would be really excited again.  

My friends laughed each morning wondering if I was going ahead that day or not! 

Along came the Friday evening. A quick drink in the pub first (only one!). Then off to the tattooist, a lovely man who was very reassuring.  

My friends made me go first – in case I backed out!  

The tattoo artist and I spent time selecting the right place and size for the image. Higher than I had pictured, but perfectly positioned. 

I sat in the chair, at this stage more excited than scared, though worried slightly about the pain. 

And it began! 

It turns out a tattoo hurts less than I thought it would! And my ankle really did need a friendship symbol on it. It just looks perfect to me. 

My friends went next, 3 on top of their feet and one on her chest. 

I don’t think they regret it either.  

It has been a few years now, and I have no regrets. And, don’t tell my mum, but I have started thinking my left foot might need a bit of artwork…