diaries: the real story behind my tattoos

and notes on loving the skin your in

I was originally going to write a piece this morning on why the ‘clean girl’ aesthetic gives me the ick, and I deleted everything I wrote.

Underneath my dissatisfaction of the ‘aesthetic’ where girls rep a sleek and effortless look, poised with no tattoos in sight and a glossy, slicked- back bun is because I feel like I don’t fit into the category.

Some would argue that you can be covered with tattoos and still embody that aesthetic, as an aesthetic is more than how you look, it’s how you feel and live your life. However, I humbly place myself outside of the category.

This idea had me thinking about the ‘why’ behind my tattoos, and the reason behind the decision to get two sleeves in the first place. I was pretty young when I decided to get my first ‘big’ tattoo. I had a few smaller ones that required less commitment. Then my sophomore year of college I got the one where I was like…. “Oh, I’m not going back” (lol).

At the time, I was big on the idea of altering my body to express myself. I was 20 years old and I didn’t know who I was (8 years later I think I might have a tiny bit of insight? Ask me in the next 8 years), and piercings, clothes and a different hair color was how I experimented. I dyed my hair bleach white, lavender, pink, red - no color was off limits. My hairstylist hated me (I love you Lindsey lol).

8 years ago, reinventing myself felt fucking amazing. I was obsessed with changing the way that I looked in any way that seemed somewhat ‘acceptable’ and ‘safe’. However, in this experimentation, one thing was inevitably true. This constant reinvention and physical altercations I was making, felt like a deep rooted dissatisfaction with who I was as a person.

Changing my hair color would temporarily ease my chronic restlessness of dissatisfaction. The tiny little tattoo appointments felt like a different iteration of the same ritual. As time moved along, tiny tattoo appointments turned into big tattoo appointments.

I absolutely love my tattoos and wouldn’t change them for the world. I feel like they make me who I am today, and help me express the way I feel internally that no other piece of wearable art could convey.

There is also a part of me that considers the intention behind the decision to cover myself in art in the first place. Was it because I wanted to escape the dissatisfaction I had with myself and my body? If I have tattoos all over my arms, would people wouldn’t notice the ‘fat’ that I have on the back of my arms? Would they pay less attention to the things that I was self conscious about? Would this appointment make me feel more connected to myself?

I’ve been like this my whole life. I feel like as I’ve gotten older and established myself in who I am and what I love - I’ve gotten less tattoos as frequently, I haven’t changed my hair color too drastically, (when I tell you I would literally switch from red to blonde often….) and I don’t think about the physical altercation of the body much anymore.

I’m not sure if this is because of the fact that I don’t really drink anymore and have a pretty solid mediation and mindfulness practice, but I definitely am at a point in my life where I wonder what my life would look like without tattoos.

Would a different kind of person be attracted to me? Would I have a different personality and style? Would I present myself in the physical world in a different way? Would I be treated differently?

I guess we’ll never know.

It’s important for me to express this because these tattoos now serve as a testament of self love. Each of them are a stamp in time, and honestly, they remind me that I am worthy with or without tattoos. Over time, I’ve come to the realization that I don’t need to cover myself up in order to be beautiful. That yes, these tattoos on my skin are beautiful, but I am just as beautiful without them.

And yeah, it’s an ironic concept, as some would traditionally say that women are ‘more beautiful’ without tattoos. For me though, I question if these tattoos were just a remedy to cover up my insecurities.

However, when I get tattoos now - it’s a collection piece. Another stamp in time with the life I am currently living when I acquired the piece. I never forget any session with an artist. Getting a tattoo is such a unique and beautiful memory that gets to occupy your brain. Every artist is so special (or the one’s I’ve worked with at least) and to be able to acquire a piece of art on your skin is something I do not take lightly.

At the end of the day, I don’t need any physical altercation to feel beautiful, and hiding the skin I’m in is (as cliché as it sounds) only dims my light that I was inherently put on this earth to share.

Tattoos are now a celebration of my body being a delicate canvas that accentuates my features and makes me feel more at home in who I am and how I want to express myself. And this has been learned over time.

To all of the artists that have put art on my body (if you ever get around to seeing this), I thank you. <3

xo,

Jenny