Shortly after I turned 17, I set off to Liege, Belgium, to spend my senior year as an exchange student. Just two months in, I was ready for something that would commemorate my year abroad, but I didn’t want a nice bracelet or an expensive pair of shoes.

I wanted something a little more permanent.

Down a brick road in the middle of the city, I discovered a musky-smelling tattoo shop with tall ceilings and an artist who spoke zero English. He sketched a few stars on my right shoulder blade, then went to town with black ink.

A half an hour later, I had this tattoo which certainly does not lack in character. It most definitely commemorates my year in Belgium — slightly off-kilter, with uneven lines and, above all, permanently on my skin.

But it was when I made the decision to wear an open-back shirt in one photo that put my mom in the know about my bit of ink. I was soon bombarded with instant messages and e-mails about “the wretched thing on my back,” and “it better not be permanent.”

Needless to say, the “wretched thing” is still around.

So when I came back to Michigan, I was pretty sure I was done with tattoos. Unfortunately, that’s the problem with tattoos. Like a bag of chips, once you start you just can’t stop. In March 2007, I decided that my stars were looking a bit lonely.

I think it’s a bit of a rite of passage for many MSU students to wander up the steps to Splash of Color Tattoo & Piercing, 515 E. Grand River Ave. The tattoo shop is clean, the people know their stuff, and it was within these walls that I got my second bit of body art.

After my first semi-botched tattoo (don’t get me wrong, I love that tattoo, but it’s less than stellar), I was very specific with what I wanted. A man in his thirties with fewer tattoos than most artists consulted me. We looked at a few pages of traditional sailor swallows to place on the left side of my lower back. I was relatively unimpressed when, suddenly, it was right there.

When you see a tattoo you want, you know right away. It’s almost like love at first sight (but much more likely). One such bird had her wings raised high, and she was composed of shades of blues, yellows and oranges. She was the Matisse of swallows.

The man who would soon be tattooing me was Eric Jenks. I imagine that Santa Claus looked like Jenks when he was younger, and, surprisingly, Jenks wasn’t a predictable tattoo guy. He wasn’t covered in tattoos or piercings. In fact, you could barely see any big tattoos anywhere.

I headed back into one of the rooms of Splash of Color, tracing the steps that various MSU students had before me. After getting into the room, I sat on a stool, pulled my shirt up and waited for Jenks to get started.

The seconds before you get a tattoo, when the tattoo gun starts to buzz and you can feel the tension increase in the room, is the most exhilarating, exciting experience. Sure, I had the fears that I would end up with another junky tattoo. Once you start, though, it’s not that easy to go back.

Only 15 minutes later, Jenks was done. I looked in the mirror, and there she was – this shiny, bright blue bird with her beak open, almost smiling after me. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

And as I said earlier, once you start you can’t stop. My friend and I moseyed back over to Splash of Color last month, looking for Jenks, where we heard the unfortunate news that he’d moved to his own shop, Fish Ladder Tattoo Co., 302 E. Grand River Ave., Lansing. And I wasn’t about to have any more botched stars on my body from any other artist.

When I stepped into Jenks’ studio, it was much different than Splash of Color. The ceilings were tall, with stucco walls painted Mediterranean shades. The room was warm not in temperature but in feeling. Framed drawings hung on the wall but not in the creepy “skull and cross bones, XXXhardcoreXXX” kind of way. Fish Ladder is a work of art in itself.

Jenks is one of those guys who you trust to take a needle to your skin. You know he takes your body as seriously as you do, and he has the sort of skill level that lets you know you won’t come out with something embarrassing.

Above all, my gorgeous bird passed the most intense of tests.

Even my mom loves it.