by Emilia Diamant
I knew when I went to get my first tattoo that the hardest part wouldn’t be the pain (although it did hurt quite a bit), it would be telling my mother. I had the idea when I was living in Israel, where I fell in love with Hebrew–it’s twists and turns and calligraphy were captivating to me. Chazak, strength, meant to me that I would always be strong, even in moments of weakness or distress.
Despite the importance, I knew it would be a challenge to tell my mother. When she saw it for the first time she basically sighed and said “well, okay.” So, that’s where we are with it.
Its funny though, because I forget (quite frequently) that my tattoo is even there. I don’t frequently look at my shoulder blades in the mirror, and when I do it’s almost startling to see the ink there. In summertime I am more aware of my tattoo, when I go to the beach or wear a sundress–thanks to a parental predilection for sighs and tongue clicks.
Read More: @ jwa.org
You might also like: