I've been reading a book called 'Some Girls' by Jillian Lauren. Admittedly I found it difficult to connect with this story... that is, until the author started talking about her tattoos.
I love a quote in the book that states "the tattoo gods announce themselves to you when it's time". Jillian detailed her growing 'need' to be tattooed - her desire to belong to the secret club; to make a permanent statement. This, I could understand.
It was late 2009 when the tattoo gods seriously inspired me. I always knew that I wanted a tattoo eventually, but I also understood that I needed to be sure about what I was getting, before I did anything.
This is the tattoo that started it all for me.
I know, kind of lame to be inspired by a teeny tatt on the arm of super gorgeous model Tara Moss... but, what can I say, it planted a seed. I started researching, and the more I found, the more I wanted a peacock feather. Peacock feathers are said to be a mark of self acceptance; pride in oneself; belief in ones beauty, strength and resilience; it was everything I wanted to declare to the world, and to myself; it was going to be my reward - something beautiful to come from the turmoil. Before the year was out I had a booking made with a tattooist, I was finally sure.
The appointment I made coincided with a trip to the city and I only had that one day before I had to return home. Unbelievably, I went to a place I'd never sighted before, to an artist I'd only just met, who spoke broken English - it could have gone so wrong, but it didn't (thankfully).
Sometimes when I get down, I have to remind myself why I got my tattoo, why this particular design? It was my secret statement to say I'm proud of who I am... I remember the pain of the three hour sitting, hugging onto that leather pillow, feeling every inch of the scratching and burning - one hell of a way to prove something. If the memories aren't enough, I glance in the mirror as I undress - to seek out my permanent memento; sitting atop my right shoulder, curling it's way to the centre of my back is a brilliantly coloured peacock feather. My feather. My fears, my pain, my relic. As Jillian Lauren writes perfectly "I got my tattoo not to say 'I wuz here', a tag on a freeway overpass, but rather to say 'Here wuz me'. Here they are, the landscapes inscribed behind my eyes... with my tattoos, I serve as witness and documentarian to myself."
I know I'll get another someday, when the time is right - another marking on the map of my life.
here was me