So I shared this photo on my Snap story yesterday:
And the answer is yes, I did indeed get a tattoo.
Permanent and to be with me forever. 🙂
I guess this is probably surprising and some people wouldn’t expect me to do this, but…I’ve always wanted one and finally scheduled the appointment and did it.
I’ve thought about what I wanted for years. I’ve always been a fan of small tattoos with some special meaning behind them. I knew I wanted something tasteful and simple, like a black outline (exactly what I ended up getting). So here is the story behind my little flower.
If you’re familiar with Picasso, you may have seen his mural, Guernica. This massive piece of artwork is like a gold mine for symbolism. Picasso composed this work after Francisco Franco’s attack on Guernica, a small town in the north of Spain. The bombing of Guernica harmed innocent civilians and set the tone for the Spanish Civil War. Picasso showcased the painting at the World Fair to speak out on the political climate of Spain.
The mural displays chaos, distress, and tragedy. Among the abstracted, crying human figures, there are three symbols of hope: a woman carrying a torch, a lightbulb, and a flower.
I saw this mural in person when I was in Madrid last year, and it’s in its own room with no photography allowed. There are guards all around. I saw this mural, felt so small next to it, and among dozens of people all speaking foreign languages, I stood in front of this masterpiece and sobbed.
And so when I racked my brain for something connected to art history, travel, and had meaning…this was the clear winner.
Now for the actual process of “getting inked.”
Honestly, it is not horribly painful. It doesn’t feel like sunshine and roses, but it’s totally bearable (granted, I got something small and it took a few minutes). They do a stamp of it first so you can see what it will look like. Then you just lie back and hope you don’t have to sneeze.
Afterwards, you just have to keep it clean. For me, it doesn’t hurt much and hasn’t been terribly swollen or red. Again…it’s little.
I have no regrets. I don’t care about who won’t hire me or what I’ll look like in my wedding dress or that it will look different when I’m ninety. It’s mine.
That’s the story!
Thanks for reading 🙂