Tattoos

I got my first tattoo in St. Augustine, Florida at the tender age of 16. Like, just-turned-16. I told my mom I was getting a tattoo no matter what, so she took me down to Florida - they tattoo minors with parental consent down there.

My obsession started when I was 14 (ish), also in Florida. I cannot remember the details for the life of me, only that I was on spring break with my family and my grandma somehow met a young lady who had just gotten a tramp stamp and we all loved it. It had her and her boyfriend’s initials (!!!) and a butterfly. Cute! I had to have one!!

I did not get a tramp stamp (nor do I have one now, 19 years later). I did get a “bird of paradise” (it’s a bird, not a flower) on my spine. This was back when the internet was smol and my brain was smoler so I had done an internet search for this and picked my favorite. Turns out, so did a million other people. That summer, I saw a lady with the same exact tattoo at Six Flags. Lol!

not the exact image I brought in but close enough

I have not seen this tattoo (ever, it’s on my back) nor have I even seen a photo of it lately. Wait, just kidding, here’s one from 2024.

I felt SO COOL after I got my tattoo. I started buying clothes that specifically showed it off. I did not put a single drop of sunscreen on it, hence why it looks like garbage.

My mom took me back when I was 17 (for an unknown bird on my left ankle) and I have been hooked ever since.

I have no idea how many tattoos I have. Sometimes I try to count in my head and I forget over half of them. I think I have eight bird tattoos, but I could also be missing some. My arms are 97% full and now I’m working on my legs.

Sometimes I wish that I had planned out my tattoos (at all, or even just better. I did zero planning or forethought. #yolo) so that they were more “aesthetically pleasing” or organized or whatever. Sometimes I wish that they were all the same style for a more “cohesive” look. But then when I really think about it - how boring. I get tattoos to express myself (and look cool), not to fit in. It’s great that some people have a specific style or look, I love to look at them and get inspiration. But I also don’t want to deny myself something because of how it would look to other people?

I do pay for this laissez-faire approach; my current focus is finding some ways to fill some interestingly-shaped gaps on my legs. Life Pro Tip: get big tattoos especially on legs, which are big. If you don’t have any tattoos, you might not understand, but I’ve always regretted not going bigger! (Well, I think I was going for more of an American traditional-style patchwork sleeve situation on my legs but baby loves neotraditional! baby loves illustration style!

Again, with no planning, I had no idea how long I’d be getting tattoos. Maybe I had some idea that I’d be “done” in my thirties, maybe not. I don’t think I understood that skin doesn’t immediately turn into tissue paper when you turn 35, so I am still pleasantly surprised to know I have many years left of acquiring ink. When I think about my ideal, I am tatted the fuck up. Neck, hands, stomach, back. That feels right to me. I don’t know if that will ever materialize because 1) I am slightly more intentional about my tattoos now and would not jump into a neck tattoo of whatever floats my boat that day and 2) I’m mindful of my husband’s preferences. (Mindful, not obedient!)

While I definitely don’t love every tattoo I have (especially ones I got before my brain fully developed), it’s really cool to have this permanent story that I carry with me. It’s also crazy how much I become blind to my own body and completely forget that I have ink on my hip. They really just become a part of me, for better or for worse.

The only downside: UPF clothing. I choose, every day, to cover my skin from the evil, blurring sun, because once your tattoos start to fade and blur, they are never the same. (Tattoos will blur and fade over time naturally! That’s alrighty! But why rush the process?) I could probably find cuter UPF clothing but, eh.

Ok, the other downside is the cost. And healing. And the pain. I will not lie. Getting tattooed gets worse and worse every year. I got a “big” piece earlier this year, taking 4 hours of tattoo time, and I came home and died. Right on the couch. Dead. Plus you can’t swim or let the sun touch it for two weeks. And it’s literally an open would so it hurts. Am I selling you on the idea yet?

Man, I really love tattoos. I have my next one picked out (a heart with Ninja on it, to fill a gap on my shin) and some other ideas (big ones! big ones!). I can’t wait.

me taking photos to send to the Internet for their advice on how to make the arm ~flow better

the blastover rose I got for ~ flow and I love it 10/10

a friendship tattoo - the closest I will get to matching tattoos