A Rose by any other name is sweet, according to Shakespeare. But in my case I really am a Rose – a Rose Ann. I was named for my grandmother Rose and my grandmother Ann. Who knew that the cartoon ‘Underdog’ would influence what I would be called for the rest of my life which is not Rose, but Polly.
It started as Sweet Polly (when I was only a year old) by my brothers who thought I cried like Sweet Polly. The Sweet dropped off pretty quickly.
I have tried to change back to Roseann a few times in my life like in college and again for my first few professional jobs. New acquaintances were fine calling me Roseann, but every one else thought it sounded funny. So I returned to Polly around age 28.
This past year has been full of incredible experiences for me, like figuring out how to live a sober life in a drinking city. So I decided it was about time I get a tattoo. You can blame Facebook for constantly running tattoo ads in my newsfeed. I am very susceptible.
I always wanted a small thorny black rose which felt full of different meanings for me. It was to acknowledge my birth name, the thorns representing my rough side and the leaves representing my inner circle.
So as a small Russian girl was carving into my leg, someone else was carving into my niece’s leg. My niece, Fiona Rose, and I had been connecting more and more via email this past few years but we never talked about tattoos. So it was a lovely surprise when I saw her post a picture of hers. It was extra special that we could see each other in Montana to admire each others ink. It made us laugh even harder that we both had the same color of nail polish on – but only on one toe!!!