Why Tattoos?

When I was seven years old I was at the grocery store. I walked over to the coveted gumball machines. But something caught my eye. A similar machine containing temporary tattoos sat to the left of the gumball machine. I looked to my mother and begged for quarters to twist the machine. “Why not a gumball, why tattoos?” My mother asked earnestly. I had no answer for her. Was it because they looked cool? Maybe, but that globe filled with these tattoos enveloped me. It called to me. I would plaster myself with fake tattoos any time I could. I loved the way it made me feel: like I was different and unique. As my life progressed, my interest in body art grew as well. Then came one hot summer day that my friends and I decided to spend at the beach. As we walked down the main strip of stores, one caught my eye. It was an airbrush shop. In the window hung shirts and hats with witty sayings, but my attention was drawn to the pictures of airbrush tattoos. I used all the money I had to get an airbrush tattoo on my chest that said NO RAGRETS. It was an ongoing joke that my friends and I had. Someone would say, “You had no regrets, not even one letter.” It was one of our favorite jokes, but nevertheless, my friends asked me, “Why would you spend your money on an airbrush tattoo? And why would you get one in the first place?” I felt the need to defend myself. People had questioned my actions before, but this stung. It also made me think, Why did I get this? Was there a practical reason? Was there any reason at all? Was it because I wanted attention? Was it because I wanted to be cool? Was it a combination of the two? Or was it something deeper? These first tattoos made me a peacock. These tattoos were a plume of brightly colored feathers that would call attention to me. This was what I wanted from tattoos at first. I was a young kid infatuated with being the center of attention.As we walked down the beach I was showered with compliments and high-fives. I got that attention. But this still couldn't be the answer. Was this it. No. I did this to make a joke and to make a statement. It meant that I was funny and cool. I loved how it made me feel. I loved that I could express an idea through my skin. Time continued its gradual flow, and the more pressing issues of young adulthood took the spotlight in my mind. Time is relative and in my life, time was flying by at an alarming speed.

Years flew by and I would find my way to New Jersey. I befriended a guy we called Big Mike, who was covered in tattoos. One day we were sitting in the living room of our shared house and I asked him, “Hey, you wanna go get tattoos?” That was my foray into the world of tattoos. The moment the needle hit my skin, it was pure freedom. I felt amazing. The adrenaline rush and excitement overcame the pain. After the session, I looked at the first addition to my ever-growing collection of art. Ouroboros, the snake that eats itself, sat between my shoulder blades permanently grafted onto my skin. As we left the shop, Big Mike asked me, “Why did you want to get a tattoo today? And why a snake eating itself? ” The second question I could answer. I loved mythology. It has always made sense to me. Everything has a reason, a cause and effect, if you will. These stories defined my childhood and made me look at the world in a more magical way. But the first question still stumped me. I sat for the next couple of days and I pondered the question. It was a split decision. Or was it? Was it an impulse that caught my attention? No, it was an avalanche. What started as a piece of snow in that grocery store had rolled and snowballed into the 22 tattoos that cover my body today. That avalanche is unstoppable. Lack of money, consequences, advice to the contrary, no one can stop the force of nature that is my urge to get a tattoo. But that avalanche, like all avalanches, dissipates. So the question is still asked frequently: “Why tattoos?” And there are a lot of answers. My body is a canvas meant for art. I’ve always loved tattoos so I just got them. I got them for the story. I got them because I want to stand out. I got them because why not? But they do have a meaning. Over time each tattoo has become a story or a concept that represents a struggle or a triumph in my life. Atlas holding up the world, Hercules doing his trials, Perseus defeating Medusa. They represent the things that inspire me to grow. Atlas represents the fortitude I want to have, the strength and courage to continue to do battle in the face of an impossible task. Hercules is similar but he also represents triumph over the impossible and not letting others’ expectations define you. And Perseus stands for knowledge over strength. For my next tattoo, I think I'll get Sisyphus, because there's beauty in the struggle. I want a reminder of that permanently etched into my skin. So maybe I'm just a peacock stuck in an avalanche. Or maybe I’m something more.