I get that tattoos are not everyone’s thing. I know for ages they have been frowned upon by the masses. People with tats have been hit with stereotypes like a one-two combo. They have been judged and pigeonholed. Especially women. All I can say to anyone who brings the stones my way is to make sure they are not throwing them from glass houses. My combo shots aren’t for the faint either. Like the broad who says to me, “Wow, tattoos are so trendy!” like anyone would sit in that chair and sign up for that kind of pain and permanent markings to be trendy… please just stop.
I originally wrote much more in regards to those who disagree, but widening their platform seemed foolish. So, that is all the time I am gonna spend on the negativity towards tattoos.
What is that saying… I am not everyone’s cup of tea, but I would rather be someones shot of whiskey anyway. That’s me. I have tattoos and I love them. Every. Single. One.
I try to explain to people that don’t have any or question mine, that they mean so much to me that I imagine I was originally built with them and sitting in that chair I finally am able to uncover them. Exposing myself how I was meant to be seen, not societies version, but the original art work I was designed to be. They carry so much thought and meaning from my journey, and my way of living, some are even there as a daily reminder of how far I have come, where I am heading, and what I believe in.
Anyway, I am tattooed and like I said, there is deep meaning behind every single one I have. They were my choice, my plan, and in some cases my healing. There is a cathartic nature to the pain released in getting one, or ten. I find them beautiful, and one hundred percent true to me. Love, love them!