I got a tattoo. A huge tattoo. It was about as impulsive as I get, which means - I let it percolate in the back of my mind for about a year, then researched it for about a month, then made an appointment with the tattoo guy - and impulsively (ahhh, that's where it works itself in!) got the outline done on Design Day as opposed to 2 weeks later when I had actually scheduled Tattoo Day... that's me living on the edge.
I got a phoenix on my back. I told Mr. Tattoo Man that I wanted a phoenix with its head up, wings out, ready to fly. I wanted it to look strong, but beautiful - and it does, just like me. Up from the ashes, ready to fly.
Part of me loves the fact that looking at me, and even knowing me, one would never think I would have this gigantic bird on my back - make no mistake, it's freaking huge. Part of me loves the fact that I was able to lay on a tattoo chair and have a stranger look at my bare back without being filled with shame and self-doubt. Part of me did it so I would never forget this journey I've been on, or more importantly, so I would never forget where I was 2 years ago. Part of me did it because I wanted to prove to myself that I am tough. And part of me did it just to tell my story.
The other night I was having a hard conversation and I felt disappointed and drained, and I swear my tattoo started burning (it had only been 3 days since I got it colored in and it was still quite sensitive, but still...). In that moment I remembered; I remembered why I got that tattoo in the first place, I remembered who I am becoming - and I got the strength I needed to hold my head up with the confidence of knowing my own truth and the strength to speak it aloud.
So, there you have it. And maybe I will be 80 some day, and old and saggy and wrinkly - but then as a good friend of mine said, we'll just get the other nursing home residents to gather up and have a round of Get Out the Scotch Tape - let's see what we can make today!
I got a phoenix on my back. I told Mr. Tattoo Man that I wanted a phoenix with its head up, wings out, ready to fly. I wanted it to look strong, but beautiful - and it does, just like me. Up from the ashes, ready to fly.
Part of me loves the fact that looking at me, and even knowing me, one would never think I would have this gigantic bird on my back - make no mistake, it's freaking huge. Part of me loves the fact that I was able to lay on a tattoo chair and have a stranger look at my bare back without being filled with shame and self-doubt. Part of me did it so I would never forget this journey I've been on, or more importantly, so I would never forget where I was 2 years ago. Part of me did it because I wanted to prove to myself that I am tough. And part of me did it just to tell my story.
The other night I was having a hard conversation and I felt disappointed and drained, and I swear my tattoo started burning (it had only been 3 days since I got it colored in and it was still quite sensitive, but still...). In that moment I remembered; I remembered why I got that tattoo in the first place, I remembered who I am becoming - and I got the strength I needed to hold my head up with the confidence of knowing my own truth and the strength to speak it aloud.
So, there you have it. And maybe I will be 80 some day, and old and saggy and wrinkly - but then as a good friend of mine said, we'll just get the other nursing home residents to gather up and have a round of Get Out the Scotch Tape - let's see what we can make today!
I am so glad you are blogging! You are such an excellent writer. You write with such description that I can always visualize exactly what is going on!
ReplyDeleteDid you really do this?? If you really did this, I am so proud of you. You have done what I couldn't! I am shocked and happy! I was supposed to get a fleur de lis tattoo before I turned 50 - my cousin, sister and I were going to brand ourselves as sisters in our french-hood. So I decided, even though I missed the mark, I would go to a place near NU with Trish and finally free myself from expectations and get it. Trish and I had an agreement: we would go in, we would tell them it was for her as they worked it up, but then I would get it. So we walked into the shop and she loudly announced, "My mother is here to get a tattoo!" Well, I was mortified and literally fled the store. Rotten kid!
I think it is a perfect thing for you to do - very symbolic and freeing!!
Amazing. And you're amazing. xoxo, eos
ReplyDelete