Julie Greathouse

What inspired your most recent tattoo?

A ship’s wheel, inked during an annual getaway with my four closest sorority sisters—friends of 30 years. Every year, we leave behind the jobs, the spouses, the kids, and become 18 again. The tattoo is silly, not artsy, and definitely not deep—but we love it anyway. That wheel is more than a symbol of adventure—it’s our compass, steering us back to ourselves, to sisterhood, and to the kind of laughter only decades of friendship can bring.

If your ink could speak, what would it say?

I’m the ink on her skin. I don’t just decorate—I remember. I witness. I speak. I’m the cherry blossoms on her chest, blooming after a double mastectomy and a year of treatment—proof she’s still beautiful and strong. I’m the paper airplanes that cover radiation dots, turning pain into freedom. She didn’t just choose me—she earned me. I am her survival. I am her transformation. I am her voice when words aren’t enough.

What would you do with the $25,000?

I’d start by paying it forward. I’d find another woman who, like me, went through breast cancer and chose to embrace her body without reconstruction—someone who knows she doesn’t need breasts to be beautiful—and I’d cover the cost of her tattoo, so she can reclaim her story in ink, too. I’d use part of the prize for a special family trip abroad to celebrate my 50th birthday, and I’d donate to a local cancer nonprofit that supports others through th