I never, ever wanted to be an old lady with a tattoo and yet, here I am sporting ink for the first time at the ripe old age of 44.
I’m so [cough] hipster.
Someone once said to me, the only reason to get a tattoo is for it to really mean something… and as soon as they said it I knew what I would get.
It has been well documented in the pages of this here blog that my mantra is No Regrets, No Excuses and so of course, the idea of that text as ink having been planted it would.not.let.me.go in the succeeding months.
Once I’d made peace with the idea over a period of a year (making sure I was not being rash about it) I then spent the last 6 months fiddling about with potential fonts (coz anyone who knows me well knows that I’m all about the words, not the pictures) … and finally decided on a modified version of Mon Amour Script with which to decorate my arm.
At first I had wanted to put these words on my right wrist, but after the initial consultation with the artist it transpired that the font I’d chosen required being substantially larger than I’d thought in order to be still looking good in a year’s time (instead of smudged and blotchy) …
So, I went home with my design, tweaked it further and reduced some of the complexity so that the script really did become a custom font and finally, on May the 1st my mate Bernie and I made our way across to Inner Vision Tattoo in Surry Hills and under the steady hand of Megan Oliver we got our ink, Bernie’s a smaller less complex design inside her wrist and mine, inside of my right forearm.
I honestly didn’t know how I’d feel afterwards… would I be sorry? Would I actually regret having a tattoo… and wouldn’t THAT be dumb, given that the very text precluded regretting anything!
I secretly felt as though I’d feel fantastic… a little bit badass, and a whole lot of stoked with myself. And that’s exactly how I felt, and how I still feel.
I love that this little part of something that burns deep on the inside of me is now actually visible on the outside.