Dear Dad,

I have a series of bad news for you.

The bad news is that the small hands you and mom held while swinging me over puddles that might as well have been the Atlantic Ocean are the same hands I will always have. And having a tattoo on those hands will never change that.

The bad news is that the small feet that you used to lace in softball cleats before tournaments in the stiff August heat will be the same feet I will always have. And having a tattoo on those feet will never change that.

The bad news is that the tiny torso you used to tuck between chilled sheets before bedtime and after watching our favorite television shows will be the same torso I will always have. And a tattoo on that torso will never change that.

I know that after 20 years of raising me, you worry that if people see a tattoo they won’t take the opportunity to get to know the same little girl you helped hop over puddles, lace up her cleats and tuck into bed. But if the only time people choose to invest in me is used to inspect my tattoo and what that implies, then those are not people I’m interested in anyway.

While I want a tattoo to speak to me, I do not intend for it to speak on behalf of me.

I know that you are typically involved in an environment that prioritizes cuff links, dress suits and paisley ties. But how do you know that the man you had a conference call with last week doesn’t have a tribal band underneath the Burberry dress shirt he had on? Does that make him any less qualified for the job?

Think about all of our family members and the many Christmas' we have spent together. Do their meaningful ankle tattoos or subtle inked art infringe on the gingerbread houses we made and the presents we unwrapped?

Just as you hope for me to do my homework each night, eat my green vegetables and be the best person I can be, I have hopes for you as well.

I realize that you and mom worked hard to raise the 20-year-old I am today, and I can only hope I eventually do half as good a job for my own children. And I want you to know that I do recognize that a part of raising me meant teaching me to respect my body, a perspective I’m lucky to have.

After watching countless health class videos through 12 years of public education, and growing up during a time of bodily rejection for both men and women, I can say that I’ve grown to appreciate all of my fingers, all of my toes and everything in between. This love couldn’t have been accomplished without the constant positive reinforcement provided by both you and mom.

After two decades of lessons on self-acceptance, self-image and self-portrayal, there is not much more left to learn. Part of learning to love your body is loving yourself, and a part of loving yourself is knowing yourself. All of which, I do.

I know myself and I know what I want, even if that means permanently inking my skin.

My hope for you is to understand that getting a tattoo is not an act of defiance intended to hurt you or falsify the values you have instilled in me. Getting a tattoo does not mean that you weren’t a successful parent. Getting a tattoo does not mean I don’t respect you or myself.

My hope for you is to understand that getting a tattoo is an act for myself and for all that I’ve learned in 20 years. Getting a tattoo means expressing my values and beliefs in a convention that may not have necessarily been appealing to you. Getting a tattoo means that I know myself well enough to know what I want and how I feel, and to be proud enough to let others know as well.