Expletive, Expletive, Expletive. Those aren’t censored words, sometimes that’s just how I swear, gritting out the word “expletive” between tightly clenched teeth. It always gets me funny looks but sometimes it’s the strongest word I can think of.
At least it has a greater impact than my yelling “Cripes!” or “Frak!”
Yes, I am an 85 year old woman. And a Battlestar Galactica fan. Obviously.
Don’t believe me? Try saying it out loud. “Expletive!” It’s really rather satisfying, isn’t it?
I have a lot of practice swearing without really swearing, especially recently. You see, dear reader, just over a month ago I spent a lot of time mumbling “expletive” as I sat down for a new tattoo (and my first one in colour!). It turned out beautifully and though the sight of it causes my parents to both frown deeply while running a silent monologue (or sometimes not so silent) of how much they dislike tattoos I am deeply in love with it.
It is pretty and incredibly detailed, and also has the honour of matching almost all of my outfits (there is just one pair of leggings which clash completely but I’m ok with that … they were ugly leggings anyway).
Most importantly the tattoo is very meaningful to me.
I have always been a huge lover of tattoos and I still vividly recall when I got my first one. It was the summer of 2004 and I was backpacking with my sister in Australia before moving on to New Zealand and Fiji (my first proper taste of travel). We were wandering around in Airlie Beach when we found a small tattoo parlor where an artist with an extremely detailed scorpion tattoo down the side of his face and around his eye socket greeted us. It was there that my sister and I got matching tattoos on our ankles to commemorate the occasion.
I still remember Julia turning to me with a smile on her face saying that we could obviously trust a guy with that many tattoos to know what he was doing.
I have never for one second regretted that moment.
For me the decision to get a tattoo will never be something I take lightly as I place a great deal of importance on permanence.
Each of my tattoos have been carefully planned and obsessed over. Now I know this type of extreme thought process isn’t for everyone and I obviously respect an individual’s right to get whatever tattoo they damn well please whenever they fancy but even the idea of that kind of willy-nilly attitude makes me break out into a cold sweat.
The idea of adding something permanently to my body just because it’s trendy or on a whim really doesn’t appeal to me. Sure I love dandelions and bird silhouettes as much as the next gal, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to etch them into my skin just because.
(No offence to the huge portion of the population under 25 with one if not both of those tattoos. The images are quite pretty.)
For me a tattoo is a representation of who you are as a person and a way of expressing yourself with art. Even just expressing the “I like it, I want it” facets of your personality can be beautiful and it is something I really believe in.
This is why I am tattooed.