We are the only species that isn't born with some natural
adornment. No spots, stripes, patterns,
feathers, or plumage of any kind. Yes
we have skin and hair, and some of us have freckles or birthmarks, but it not
really the same.
Tattooing has become pretty mainstream over the last twenty
years, but I've always has a fascination with body art. When I was very little (when only bikers or
whores has tats – as my old aunt used to say), I would stop and stare intently
at the old guy at the diner that my dad used to take me to, who had a
sleeve. I would look at all the colors
and lines trying to decipher the story he was telling on his skin. As a little girl of five or six, It was a
wonder to me how it all got there.
I began asking my mother if I could get a tattoo around the
age of ten. I asked her every year from
ten until I was seventeen. The answer
was always the same; “You can get a tattoo on three conditions; you earn the
money to pay for it yourself, you are eighteen years old, and you are no longer
living under my roof”. Every year I
asked and every year mom gave me that standard line. So when I turned eighteen, I had moved out and went off to
college. And for my eighteenth birthday
my mom gave me money. She looked me
square in they eye and said, “I know where this money is going. Please just tell me you bought clothes with
it.” Then she smiled and shook her
head, knowing what a stubborn headstrong daughter she had raised. I kissed her and replied, “Hey, two outta
three ain't bad”.
I had already scoped out the place I wanted to go. Back then you didn't need appointments,
consultations or all the booking that goes on today to get inked. You just walked in and they put your ass in
the chair and gave you what you wanted.
I took the fifty bucks my mom gave me for my birthday (yes
tattoos were much less expensive back then too) and went to the shop. I knew what I wanted and where I wanted it;
I just had to get a proper visual.
Here I sit almost 21 years later and I still have that
little red devil with an “A” on its ass on my left hip. Thankfully still in the same spot it was
originally placed. Not the most distinguished piece ever inked but it still
represents the young girl I was. And
how part of her stays with me as I have grown.
My body has been adorned with ink three more times since
then. All my pieces are relatively
concealed and have important significance to me.
As I approach my 39th year of life, I am going
through a great deal of personal, emotional, financial, and physical
changes. My life since the stroke has
reintroduced me to the person I sometimes forgot I was or was ashamed to
be. In the past few years I have
embraced some things that have allowed me to try, I stress the word TRY, to
become ok with myself. I am still a
work in serious progress, but as long as the progress continues I think I will
be ok.
I decided for my 39th birthday I wanted to gift
myself the expression of my continued evolution and strength. I commissioned another piece, which will be,
by far, my largest (and most expensive) to date. It embodies a representation of what I strive for as a human
being while embracing my love of certain things. With that my desire for body art continues. I look forward to nothing more than sitting
in the chair and feeling the sting of the needle adorning me with color and
pristine design, only to come away with an amazing representation of the mental
and physical journey that is my life.
For me, getting a tattoo is not about the destination, it’s
about the journey. This leg of my
journey will have one hell of a reminder when it is all said and done.
