Full Disclosure

In the wake of scandal and hypocrisy surrounding clergy members lately, such as the 30-something-year-old youth minister who got nabbed for having sex with a 15-year-old member of his flock, and the anti-Facebook preaching pastor who-- whoopsie!-- we found out has had three- and foursomes in the past, it occurs to me that I, too, have a skeleton in my closet.  The kind of skeleton that if found out years and years from now might actually have an effect on my integrity.

I think the only way to fight this is to confront it head on.  After all, monsters live in the dark, as they say.  I believe that being up-front about this will go a long way in preventing a possible scandal (or at least head-shaking and eye-rolling) further on down the line.  Here it is.

I, the admin and founder of the Central Maine Atheist Alliance, have a tattoo.

Wait, it gets worse.

It's of a religious symbol.

You see, I got ink done shortly after my body legally became my own.  I mention in a past blog post that I went through a period of seeking.  I knew by then that Christian theology didn't make sense to me, but I still hadn't worked out just what did make sense.  At the age of just-barely-nineteen, I found Wicca.

I was so excited about this new-found belief (that ended up lasting all of a few years, but who could know then?) that I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.  I, like so many nineteen-year-olds before me, had it all figured out.  And what better way to proclaim my relatively new-found faith than a tattoo?

And so, on the left-hand side of my chest, between collarbone and breast, is a pentagram much like you see above.

If I ever score that big book deal and make a gazillion dollars, I'll get it removed.  But for the time being, there it remains, faded somewhat (but not enough) with time.

So, there you have it.  Judge me if you will.  But at least you know the truth.