My body is a tatted museum
But really, what is there to regret?
Ever since I started wanting tattoos, I’d think of museums. Ink gets pressed permanently into the skin to make art that follows me every day. A museum of my life and my experiences, of the old versions of me, and the open space for ones that will come.
A tattoo is a commitment, and often does not seem like one in the beginning. The realisation comes a few weeks later, when you have carried the tattoo to school, workouts, and around the house, and you realize one day, when passing a reflective surface, that this is going to be forever.
Tattoos are a form of self-expression and are often related to major events or emotions within people’s lives. But, I cannot speak for everyone because some —including myself—have gotten a tattoo for the sake of how it looks and attached meaning to it later.
Our interests, likes, and style shift as we grow older. In turn, the connection to a tattoo can start to weaken.
I started getting tattoos when I was 18, fresh out of highschool, and have since been quite impulsive about filling in the empty space in between. Out of the eight tattoos I have gotten over the past four years, there are some I critique more than others. I’ll name a few and you can throw in your guesses over which I regret: a skeleton of a snake, a Twilight quote, a rose lady, a half-sun half-moon, or angel wings.
The point is, we evolve with acceptance of these past interests and influences, often allowing them to continue to subtly impact our current ones. It can be tricky when that interest is permanently visible to not just you, but everyone you pass. There have been times where I have been stuck in a sticky self-conscious loop that begins to feel just as permanent as the stain on my skin.
Fortunately, my tattoo regret is not with one tattoo itself, although I do have the occasional I wish I did it differently or I shouldn’t have gotten it this young thoughts. My regret is letting my perspective of others’ opinions take control. A tattoo becomes part of me, so these opinions often feel quite personal. The long term exposure to mixed interpretations, reactions, and comments about my tattoos starts to impact how I view them. They stop being about a time in my life—an exhilarating spur of the moment, an important memory, or a shared memento—and become a judgement.
I think it is safe to say tattoos are a risk. And by no means am I telling you that your tattoo needs to mean something extravagant for it to exist. If you like sunflowers, get that sunflower tattooed.
But, as an offering for those who worry about the tattoos they have or might get, the trick for dodging the bullet of judgement is to remember that your tattoos are strictly for you. Remember this is your museum, and not anyone else’s.
