February Focus: Day Twenty-Four
a) me and my tats
I have five small tattoos. The first one I got in Germany to commemorate the first time I went overseas. It’s a tiny blue heart under the pinky toe of my left foot. The tattoo artist said it was so small he didn’t even think it was worth turning on the machine. But he did it anyway, and I just love it. The second one is a white heart on my left wrist, which is so subtle, I have to point it out to people if they’re curious. But I like this one too. The third is a black star next to my white heart. I like it, but I also know that if I put my hand down, it’s where a pentagram points, so I’m not sure how to feel about it. The fourth is the phrase “una vita beata” on my right wrist, which means “a charmed life” in Italian. It comes from a Buddhist monk who blessed me as a baby and said I’d have a charmed life. I thought it was cute at the time, but I’m indifferent to the ink now. And finally, the fifth is another black star on my left heel, which kind of looks like where a Converse star would go.
And that’s my tattoo map. It’s simple, which is how I like it. I’m glad they’re all small and out of the way, but it doesn’t erase the fact that they’re there. And I think about that a lot, as I wonder what all my ink says about me to anyone who doesn’t go beyond skin deep.
b) tattoo who?
I’m just gonna talk about Tinder again because it’s such a novelty to me these days, and it perfectly describes what I’m talking about. It seems a rarity to swipe and see a man with no visible ink anymore. I noticed as I was swiping in Italy. It threw me off just how many men were coated in designs from head to toe. Muscle tats, down the forearms, the thighs, the calves, the neck, the decolletage, literally everywhere. It was bizarre. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting from Italian men, but it certainly wasn’t that.
While I can appreciate beautiful and artistic ink jobs, I can’t help but wonder why so many men (and women) choose the designs they do. Sticking with Italy, there was one day I went down for breakfast and was wearing my new sleeveless dress with a high collar. I felt very nice and the weather was just perfect for it. I saw a girl come out on the balcony wearing the exact same style of dress as me, but in purple. And that wasn’t the only different. She was literally covered in tattoos. They were everywhere. Based on the people she was sitting with, I assumed there was some kind of “alt-punk” wedding going on. So it made sense, but why?
“Who is that for?” I wrote in my laptop over my breakfast, “Why do that?” Because in a sense, yes your tattoos are for you, but everyone else is going to see them. So they’ve got to be for someone other than yourself, right? Why else would you permanently decorate yourself if you didn’t want other people to look?
c) you’re here forever
Tattooing isn’t a brand new concept. People have been doing it for centuries for millions of reasons. I haven’t forgotten that. Even in this day and age there’s ritualistic and traditional reasons to do so. I’m not discounting any of that. And I know what a hypocrite it makes me judging other people’s ink when I have some of my own.
But tattooing changes you. It’s a body alteration like anything else. It’s got to have some effect on the body, the mind, and even the spirit. I don’t do the thing where people wonder what all that ink is going to look like in the future. I wonder if people are happy about it in the here and now. If they even care. If they look into laser removal like I’ve done.
This is not me saying I wish no one to ever get a tattoo ever again. It’s not up to me to police other people’s bodies. I’m saying that I wish we thought a little more about why it is we do it, why we’ve kept it up, and why it’s not seen as a big deal anymore. There is value in skin untouched, and maybe we can help people remember that. Even if we have to ink it into their memories.
Then again, body modification is a form of art on its own. Who am I to judge? I didn’t inscribe the rules. I just put it on my body.