Nearly two years ago, like any other 18-year-old, I contemplated getting a tattoo.
This was not an impulsive act of rebelliousness, but something I had given a lot of thought to for many years before and knew I wanted.
I spent several days thinking it through and evaluating the pros and cons, then one day I just woke up and went to a tattoo shop without hesitation.
Arriving there, I wasn’t intimidated or having second thoughts because somewhere deep down I knew this was something I wanted.
The artist scheduled me the same day I went and I got two tattoos during the session.
Getting and having something new in my life gave me confidence and excitement like I have never felt.
It was one of the first things I did by myself, for myself, without the intervention of other people. It felt unreal, almost like a dream.
I enjoy getting tattoos: the planning, anticipation, the actual tattooing process and the finished product.
I ended up getting three more in a span of one to two months, one of which, if I’m being honest, was impulsive, which I don’t encourage.
I heard a phrase saying tattoos are a permanent accessory that are always on display, even if they are for yourself, which they should be.
One of the biggest factors when it comes to tattoos is the reaction of others. It’s unavoidable.
The responses I received from friends, family members and my father were positive and completely understanding in wanting to do something for yourself and it doesn’t change who you are as a person.
My mother, despite having one herself, was not as understanding, and basically told me the stereotypical things you hear that people say to try and convince you otherwise, such as you will not look nice or you won’t be able to get a job, etc.
Though I understood her being upset, as I didn’t mention it before and withheld the information, it can be discouraging when something that makes you happy is made out to be a terrible thing, mainly by someone you want to understand, but over time she has accepted that they don’t define who you are.
The stigma with tattoos is that it makes you a bad person. People will look at you differently and it can affect your future opportunities and other prospects.
Over time, I found that to be false.
It may be because tattoos are more accepted now, but I have not experienced being treated any differently. I was seen not for what I have on my body, but as a person.
This is not a story encouraging the reader to get a tattoo by any means.
The main message is that whatever makes you happy, whatever your interests, likes or goals are, shouldn’t have to make sense to other people.
You shouldn’t feel ashamed of the things you enjoy or are passionate about because of the opinions of others or because they don’t meet a societal standard.
They are what make you unique, they make sense to you, they bring you happiness in your life, and that is the most important person that it should matter to, yourself.
