Kelly Mendenhall - Skin in the Game: The Story My Tattoos Tell
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- Book:Skin in the Game: The Story My Tattoos Tell
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Skin in the Game: The Story My Tattoos Tell: summary, description and annotation
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Skin in the Game: The Stories My Tattoos Tell is Kelly Mendenhalls autobiographical debut as an author. In the book, Kelly tells of the significant events and pivotal moments of her life by way of recounting the stories behind her eclectic collection of tattoos. Those moments include the death of her father as a young girl, surviving the physical and sexual abuse she endured as an adolescent, the gut-wrenching loss of friends who died too young, and so much more.
The reader witnesses the author surviving, growing, and thriving throughout each chapter, until her legs fall out from under her, literally and figuratively, at the age of 35. Suddenly, everything changes all over again and she must reinvent herself and overcome once more.
Each chapter is accompanied by photographs of the tattoos described therein, bringing to life the images painted in the readers imagination through carefully crafted storytelling. Skin in the Game is a must-read - a narrative of honesty and authenticity rarely observed in a world in which so many of us merely share the highlight reels of our lives.
This book is written for anyone who has ever thought of giving up, anyone needing inspiration to keep on fighting, and anyone who fears that they are too far gone for redemption. This book is Kellys way of turning her mess into a message that inspires others to survive and thrive.
The reader witnesses the author surviving, growing, and thriving throughout each chapter, until her legs fall out from under her, literally and figuratively, at the age of 35. Suddenly, everything changes all over again and she must reinvent herself and overcome once more.
Each chapter is accompanied by photographs of the tattoos described therein, bringing to life the images painted in the readers imagination through carefully crafted storytelling. Skin in the Game is a must-read - a narrative of honesty and authenticity rarely observed in a world in which so many of us merely share the highlight reels of our lives.
This book is written for anyone who has ever thought of giving up, anyone needing inspiration to keep on fighting, and anyone who fears that they are too far gone for redemption. This book is Kellys way of turning her mess into a message that inspires others to survive and thrive.
Kelly Mendenhall: author's other books
Who wrote Skin in the Game: The Story My Tattoos Tell? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
Kelly Mendenhall
Talmadge Eva
Zimmer Carl
Birk OHalloran
Kelly Smith
J. Serup
MacNaughton Wendy
Brian Ashcraft
Nancy Hajeski
Carl Zimmer
Skin in the Game: The Story My Tattoos Tell — read online for free the complete book (whole text) full work
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Copyright 2019 Kelly J. Mendenhall & Nerdzilla Media
ISBN
Print Copy: 978-1-7325405-0-7
E-Book: 978-1-7325405-1-4
Author Contact
Kelly J. Mendenhall
www.nerdzillakelly.com
https://www.anonmomhappyhour.com/
Cover Illustration
Kristen Trawczynski
https://www.facebook.com/MissGogglesIllustration/
Cover & Book Design
Sarah Gzemski
https://www.sgzemski.com/
Photography
Sarah B. Gilliam
https://www.sarahbgilliam.com/
Hair & Makeup
Jill Brooks, The Jill Brooks Beauty Bar
https://www.jillbrooksbeauty.com/
Web Design
Lore de Force
https://www.loredeforce.com
I got my first tattoo when I was 17 years old. I had just barely turned 17. My poor mother never stood a chance. Once I decided I wanted something I went after it relentlessly and my first tattoo was no exception. I remember saying things like, It could be worse, mom, I could be doing heroin. Another gem was, Im not asking for genitalia piercings mom, I could be asking for that! I also used my stepbrothers to guilt her. Mom, Thomas and Travis smoke crack, steal cars, and set things on fire. All I want is a tattoo. As I said, I was relentless. Eventually, she broke down and signed the consent form. It was a blanket consent form for, Anything except genitalia piercings.
I had graduated from high school that summer, a year ahead of schedule. It wasnt because I was brilliant or anything, I just had too many credits for the school system to keep me any longer. I thought I was hot shit and that I knew everything. In my defense, I had seen and experienced a lot more than most girls my age. Tattoos were the least of my problems and my mothers worries at that time.
I was 16 the day that I met Joey. My best friend Angela and I referred to Joey as the hot guy that works at the gas station. We saw him drawing all the time when we went in there but didnt know he was an artist, let alone a tattoo artist. One day my friend embarrassed the absolute hell out of me, the way all good girlfriends do. She pulled into the parking lot of the gas station, rolled her window down, and shouted, Hey! My friend thinks youre really hot! as Joey was walking from the building to his truck. Im pretty sure I blacked out from embarrassment at that exact moment. I dont remember how the conversation went after that but at some point, we learned that he was headed to the tattoo shop down the street, the shop that his parents owned, where he worked as an apprentice.
I could never have guessed that day (or in the months that followed) that Joey would become such a constant in my life or that I would soon be embarking on the beginning of a lifelong tattoo journey. Over the next ten years, Joey would spend countless hours hunched over my various body parts, placing permanent pictures on my skin. I feel like its only appropriate that this book begins with him just as my descent into a full-blown tattoos-as-self-expression-and-closure dependence did. I will say, though, that getting at least one tattoo each calendar year keeps me a much more even-tempered and less stabby person. I can purge my body of at least one years worth of pent-up stress and frustration, sadness, anxiety, and grief in a mere 3-5 hours on a tattoo artists table.
Im 36 as I write this and still havent grown out of wanting tattoos. Much to my mothers chagrin, this is not a phase. I still love almost every piece as much as I did the day I had it done. Almost. I doubt any heavily tattooed person doesnt have at least one mild regret, as I surely do. Most of my tattoos are absolute originals, except for my right arm sleeve and a piece of flash I had slapped on my right shoulder blade. Ill tell you more about the sleeve later. But even the pieces I have that were inspired by shop flash or old pieces by Sailor Jerry were customized somehow. My tattoos tell many stories; they tell my story.
All of my tattoos represent a person, a place in time, or a significant event in my life. Some of them honor and memorialize dead family members and friends. Some of my tattoos honor people still very much alive who play a significant role in my life. Some of my tattoos have provided me with a great amount of closure and have helped me work through mourning and grief. Some of my tattoos serve as reminders of where Ive been or where Im trying to go.
Every one of my tattoos has a story and I will share most of those stories within these pages. I hope that Ive told them well here and that you enjoy reading them.
More than that, I hope that by telling my stories I can help make things just a little bit easier for anyone else.
Thanks for indulging me.
Survival, love, and friendship. Thats the story my first tattoo tells. When I was 15 years old and a sophomore in high school, I transferred from the school in Chelsea, Michigan, the small town where I lived and was bullied relentlessly, to an alternative high school in Ann Arbor, Michigan called Stone School. Everyone has their idea of what an alternative school is. Some people will see the words alternative school and think of a place only for the worst of the worst kids, where students are totally out of control and have no interest in learning. Some people will think of a school for exceptional or gifted children with a tailored curriculum and teachers that let students call them by their first names. Stone School was something in between.
There were students at Stone who were delinquents, criminals, and neer-do-wells and there were also students, like me, who just couldnt hack it in a traditional school environment for whatever reason. My reason was crippling anxiety and the relentless (and often violent) bullying. In addition to the delinquents and me, there were teen moms and dads at Stone who took advantage of the on-site daycare. We also had lazy students who were otherwise harmless but had zero ambition when it came to anything useful. When I think of Stone School I mostly remember freedom from shame. Many of the friendships forged and nurtured in those halls live on today. The story of my first tattoo started there.
Brian and I were in Vietnam War Literature together when we officially met. I was sitting on top of the old radiator along the wall, in front of the windows, waiting for class to start and goofing off with my friends. My friends and I were singing old commercial jingles at the top of our lungs. The Cocoa Wheats song was one of them.
I was wearing blue jeans with holes cut in them strategically so that you could see the spiderwebbed fishnet stockings I was wearing underneath. I donned black, steel-toed combat boots and a t-shirt that read, Fight Censorship, over a picture of Uncle Sam with a parental advisory sticker over his mouth. My hair was shoulder length and dyed black at the time. I couldnt tell much about him from the unassuming clothes he wore. Solid color t-shirts, blue jeans, hiking boots. That was him pretty much every day. I would later learn that Brian was my polar opposite, into Hip Hop and cyphering. I had seen Brian plenty around the halls and such, but I am certain that we hadnt spoken before this day. The class had started, and our teacher was talking about the book we were reading. The next thing I knew Brian slipped me a note that read: Whats 
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