Times have changed since I was a young person. Back then, military men and
motorcyclists had tattoos. Women, if they had any, wore small, dainty flowers like
daisies or roses. Usually in barely conspicuous places. Not so any more.
This summer, while traveling for two months across Canada and the United States,
I was struck by the number of people with large, very visible tattoos. Full
sleeves. Arms and legs. In amazing colors. Skillful art.
To be honest, most were hard to parse out as to what the meaning or message they
were meant to convey. Maybe it’s enough that the person wearing the display
relates to the message. Then again, these tats are on full display for all to see.
That means something, doesn’t it?
I grew up hearing a phrase used to describe a person’s emotional state—-wearing
your heart on your sleeve. That phrase is truer than ever in our current culture.
Sleeves now meaning an arm covered in tattoos. For the youngish, if that’s a word.
With my seventy-eight year old body, I’m afraid any tattoo I might consider would
disappear into wrinkles or stretch into cartoon-like distortions. Doesn’t seem quite
fair. Formerly taut triceps sag and sway. I witnessed what happened to my brother.’s beloved tattoo.
It was a wolf, that with age, morphed to have a face like a pig. Funny!
Not funny! Cost him big bucks to get it reworked to look wolf-like again.
I’m no fool. This isn’t for me, but do I have options for wearing my heart on my sleeve?
At first, I thought no. Especially since tattoos aren’t an option for me. But, then I looked through my clothes.
Specifically through my tops. I don’t own pretty, stylish blouses. What there is,
in abundance, are t-shirts. Lots of t-shirts. Therein lies what is near and dear to me.
My heart not on my sleeve, but on my chest and back, literally.
My t-shirt wardrobe contains some blue and some white tees dating back to 1995.
That was when I became an avid UConn women’s basketball fan. My tees are
testimony to their first national championship, their record of consecutive wins,
their Big East titles, their American Conference titles, and their Final Four
appearances. I could go on and on as each new season’s ticket purchase gave me
new opportunities to acquire more tees, proclaiming my love and admiration for
this program.
A deeper dive into my t-shirt pile lends evidence to my love of bears and the
natural world. A perfect combination for me is a t-shirt with a bear, which also
touts a national or provincial park. Big horn sheep, mountain goats, cougars and
elk show up on my tees when bears are not available. By my count these tees take
up the half of my t-shirt area that is not occupied by University of Connecticut
tees.
Lately I’ve been drawn to tees that leave no doubt as to my political affiliation, my
stance on women’s health and on the freedom to love who one chooses. As I feel
shifts in attitudes, the proliferation of lies, bullying and threats to democracy, I also
feel the need to stand up in a visible way for what I believe in. My heart on my
chest feels appropriate. Some available tees that come up on my Facebook feed
intrigue and excite me. They fit my desire to take a more visible stance in my
community.
So my choice is to stick to bold lettered tees which tell you who I am and what I
support. Cat Lady. Be Kind. Vote Blue. Go UConn Huskies. Look at my
tees and you’ll also see my favorite places without me having to say a word.
Glacier National Park. Yellowstone. Jasper Provincial Park. Bear Country USA.
There’s something to be said for the option of showing my heart with a different
message every day. My tees reflect the many diverse aspects of my emotional and
physical life. The beauty of that? I have the option of changing my mind.
Throw out the old tee; choose a new one.
Even better? My wolf faces will never start to look like pigs.
© Gail Greene Ouimet, 2026
Walks Across 