Me & My Tattoos

so you don’t have to ask

and I won’t have to tell you twice

1/3

I was just eight years old when I got my first tat-kidding. I was just eight years old when I rode my first roller coaster. If it were not for my babysitter at the time, I would have walked right past the big scary ride. But Megan wasn't going to have it. I can't tell you what she told me to get on the roller coaster, but she must've been good with her words. However, I still remember how terrified I was sitting there waiting for take-off. I'm not proud to admit I shrieked before it even took off. Yes, shriek.

When that roller coaster took off, I was in pure bliss. I wound up begging my babysitter to keep letting me ride the rides. She obliged because she was responsible for the monster she created.

Every single ride, somehow, the two of us wound up in cart number XXII without trying. It was my first ever roller coaster ride, and I was petrified. But somehow, I got on the ride and rode the damn thing all night long. Fast forward ten years, and I am studying abroad in a country I've never been to. Nothing crazy. It was just London, but still small fish in a big pond. I had to put myself out there a lot during this semester and just kept reminding myself how much I love roller coasters now.

I am thankful I met the people I met in London because they are some of my closest friends. So when we somehow agreed to get tattoos one day in Camden Market, I knew exactly what I wanted.

Now, I can do whatever I put my mind to. I just look at my left forearm to remind me every once in a while.

When I got my second tattoo, I decided the left part of my body would be designated for arm tattoos and the right side for my leg. This one definitely stung a little more but tickled the same. I got it at the same place I got my first one while visiting friends for spring break right before the Covid-19 breakout.

This tattoo was less for me, well about me, and more so about my parents. I was so excited to go home and show them. Of course, my mom let out the waterworks, and my dad said it was "neat." I could not have been more blessed by having these two individuals as my mom and dad. They protect, support, encourage, and even laugh at/with me, and most importantly, they love me to the moon and Back.

So, therefore as their one and only son, I decided to honor them with some ink. To remind me their love and support are right behind me; everywhere I go, at all times, I go a sun in a moon. "My parents love me to the moon and back, and I'm their one and only son," is what I tell people when they ask about its meaning.

2/3

My Third

I have to begin this by apologizing to the woman I cut off at the finish line. While it made for a great laugh at Thanksgiving dinner, I did not mean to do you so dirty.

The third tattoo I got was due to a dare. But not in a malicious or stupid dare. It was a part of my fundraising efforts for the NYC 50th marathon. I was helping fundraise for the Back on my Feet Organization. The 50th race was the day before my 22nd birthday. I couldn't have planned a better way to celebrate.

Also, my dad was the only O'Neil to run a marathon; I needed to nip that in the bud.

I thought I had bypassed the "fundraising to enter" portion of the race, but it turns out I paid an entry fee, not an exemption fee. With just about two weeks left until the deadline, I got to brainstorming. I thought dares for charity would be the most effective way to raise money. I was right. I surpassed my $3k donation goal in two weeks by completing my dares.

I bleached my hair, cooked dinners, made Tik Toks, took some pies to the face, and gave a bunch of TBHs. However, I never expected someone to donate the $300 pick your dare, let alone it is my mother. When she told me her dare was for me to get a tattoo to commemorate what I accomplished, I was taken aback. I knew she thought my tattoos were sweet, but I didn't realize she actively supported them. That's just the kind of mom she is, the best.

I am trying to remember if I properly thanked her for cheering me on from the sidelines that day. Her encouragement and support was the exact thing I needed to cross the finish line. Thank you, mom.

Riding a roller coaster sounds like a small molehill to climb when facing 26.2 miles. But I was more nervous riding the roller coaster for the first time than I was at the starting line. The NYC marathon reinforced I can do anything I set my mind to. What it taught me was that I'm a badass. I'm forever grateful my mom always knew that, even if I didn't. But the marathon didn't mitigate the fact that it was a hill that I climbed. Even the little victories can feel like you just ran a marathon. But you can only say that if you ran a marathon.