by Victoria K.

Created on: March 03, 2009

"Are you crazy?!?", my mom asked as I, her 16 year old daughter asked her if she could get a tattoo. I knew it was a longshot, but my best friend had just gotten her name tattooed on her lower back in Old English writing and I couldn't resist asking in hopes that she would give in and let me. She didn't.

I dropped hints over the course of a few months, bargaining for the chance that she would say yes. "I'll do all of the laundry and wash all of the dishes everyday for a month!" She didn't buy it. I bargained everything I could think of right down to getting straight A's for a whole semester. She didn't buy that either, actually, neither did I. Eventually, I gave up.

My 17th birthday was a few weeks away and I knew my mom was planning a party with some of my friends. I wasn't all mushy gushy about my birthday, but I knew she loved doing it, so I always let her make a big deal. I was, afterall, her only daughter. I figured we would do a mother-daughter movie night with some ice cream afterwards. We started doing that more often after she separated from my dad. I knew she was lonely and I liked spending time with her, just us girls.

My birthday came around and mom told me we'd have our girls night on Friday. I picked out a movie I wanted to see and we headed towards the theater. We pulled into the parking lot of a mini mall and I figured she wanted to grab some food before the movie. When we parked, I looked up and saw the word "Tattoo" in neon colors. I looked over at my mom and my face immediately lit up. "Mom! You're getting me a tattoo?" She smiled, "Happy Birthday baby!" I thought it was the coolest thing a mom could do. I went inside and started flipping the pages. I saw unicorns, dragons, rainbows and devils. Nothing stood out. My mom kept her eye on me to make sure I didn't choose anything TOO grown up, I was still her little girl. I found a pair of angel wings and thought about putting a pair between my shoulder blades. Boy did she shoot that idea down quickly. She handed me a page filled with Disney characters. I looked up at her confused. She told me that I could have anything on the page. I had always loved Mickey Mouse and figured it wouldn't hurt her too much if I got one on my ankle. So I did, classic Mickey tattoo for my ankle.

I sat down in the chair and the artist gave me a squeezy ball for the pain. It didn't hurt. It was slightly uncomfortable, but not painful. My mom, however, couldn't watch. I remember "Roseanne" was playing on the tv and I laughed a few times at the corny jokes. My mom ran over because she thought I was crying, when she saw I was laughing, she shook her head and went back to flipping through the art. When all was said and done, it was great. I was happy that she bought me a tattoo for my 17th birthday. I was even more surprised when she sat down in the chair next to get a tiny butterfly tattooed on her ankle. I was proud of her. She opened up her comfort zone for me. It was truly a girls night out.

It has been almost 10 years since that day. I lost my mom in 2006 to heart disease. I have mostly outgrown the Mickey Mouse phase and often thought of getting it removed. But I wouldn't dare. Everytime I look down at my ankle I remember that day, our ultimate girls night, and consider that little mouse a gift from my mom. I will keep it there for all time and whenever anyone asks about it, I smile and tell them it was a gift from my mom.

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