Permanent.

When I was 22 I saw The Suicide Girls website for the first time and thought, that’s who I want to be.

I want to be tattooed.

I want to have memories, warnings, art, parts of me, on me. For other people to see. Or not to see, depending on how I felt. It felt powerful.

I had little doubt that I might regret covering my body in ink, but I did once mention to a tattoo artist, seeking approval, that a design I’d thought of was unlikely to cause regret when I was 60.

His thoughts were that if that’s all I had to worry about when I was 60, then I’d be doing very well.

It’s just skin. It’s just a body. My body. Mine.

I claimed parts of myself that I’d once hated with colour and if you don’t like it, I don’t care.

Advertisements

One thought on “Permanent.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s