Mom, Indelibly Yours -- Forget Flowers Or Candy; A Tattoo Is A Mother's Day Tribute To Dye For

You're looking for the ultimate Mother's Day tribute. So far, all you've come up with are flowers, brunch reservations and a sappy greeting card.

You ain't got nuthin' on Majenta.

A tattooist for Greenlake Tattoo and Body Piercing, Majenta - that's her entire name, like Cher or Madonna - wears a permanent monument to her mother on her right arm. It's a mom-labeled heart, topped with a crown.

What does Mom think?

"It's one of the only ones she didn't complain about," said Majenta, whose arms are otherwise covered in a swirl of mostly floral tattoos.

Majenta may be on to something here. Why contribute to the national Mother's Day onslaught of flowers and chocolates when you can indelibly express your affection for Mom with a tattoo?

With Mother's Day less than 48 hours away, we know you're itching to follow in Majenta's footsteps. So here's a primer on Mom tattoos:

First, you need to choose your term of endearment. Sample tattoos at Lucky Devil Tattoos in the Rainier Valley include tributes to Mother, Mom, Ma, Mama and Mommy. Even dear old Mudda has been immortalized upon the flesh of one loyal offspring.

If you're the traditional type, check out the basic design: a heart with a ribbon or sash reading "Mom." Those tattoos were popular in the 1920s and '30s, when sailors on long voyages could take comfort from a quick glance at their biceps.

"For the lonely sailor, `Mom' tattoos came before sweetheart and wife - which often led to some hurts," tattoo historian D.E. Hardy wrote in his 1988 book, "Music and Sea Tattoos."

These days, you can choose from an array of maternal tattoo themes. If you're going for the infant motif, consider the pacifier tattoo. Or for a more forceful symbol of Mom's authority, there's a rolling pin.

If Mom's cooking is one of her finer attributes, you might want something along the lines of one sample tattoo at Lucky Devil, which depicts a rotund, possibly Italian "Ma-Ma" holding a plate of what looks to be spaghetti and meatballs.

Or, if you're missing Mom, there's always the living memorial: Think about crosses or flowers to remember a departed mother.

Maybe you'd rather treat Mom to her own tattoo. Majenta says a growing number of mothers are themselves going under the needle.

Majenta crafted tattoos just last week for a pair of local moms - "a couple of little blossoms and a wristband," she said. One of her all-time favorite jobs was tattooing a pair of matching bucking broncos on a mother and daughter visiting from Montana.

And, of course, Majenta has tattooed her own mom, Cheryl Bell, who sports a firecracker on her ankle (she was born on July 4).

Maternally themed skin not for you? You're not alone - some of the most devoted tattoo enthusiasts don't even have them.

Tim McCarthy, a tattooist at Lucky Devil's sister shop on Capitol Hill, has about 60 images on his body, but no Mom tattoos.

"That's kind of a joke I have going with my mom," McCarthy said. "I told her I'd get one if she gets a `son' tattoo."

But for Little Joe, a tattooist at the Rainier Valley Lucky Devil, Mom is a constant companion - and was only a brief pain in the neck.

Last year he emblazoned his jugular with a tattoo in Mom's honor. Now, he thinks of her every time he looks in the mirror.

"I figured, she went through 15 hours of labor for me, I can go through two or three hours of pain for her," said Little Joe.

His dutiful testament to Mom is a snake, wrapped around a heart with a dagger stuck through it. Etched upon the heart is a single word, "Ma."

"It represents my mom, because she holds my heart," Little Joe said.

Awww. And how does Little Joe's mother feel about being permanently portrayed as a serpent on her son's neck? Bonnie Hoppel of Billings, Mont., couldn't be happier.

"That's his way of expressing his love for his mom, and I'm happy with it," Hoppel said. "For him, there's a message behind the snake and his heart."

Jake Batsell's phone message number is 206-464-2595. His e-mail address is jbatsell@seattletimes.com