I'd like to think that I come from a pretty liberal, allowing, respectful-of-everyone's-wishes type background. My parents are both teachers, my father at the university level and my mother as a music teacher to young children. As a child, I was always encouraged to express myself, to find things that interested me and go explore them as much as possible. Now, I'm not going to claim that bodmods have captivated me since I was very young, since that wasn't the case. I hadn't really ever been exposed to anything of the like until I was in my early teens, since I attended private school with the children of ambassadors to the US. Truth be told, the only real experience I had with modifications of any kind were the tattoos I'd seen on the arms of rock stars, namely people like Ozzy Osbourne, someone my brothers both admired. To me, they were simply a part of the person. I never really thought about it, nor did I stop to wonder just what that person was thinking when they were getting these mods done. It was just the way things were for a very long time.
At A Glance Author felonaz Contact [email protected] When N/A When I hit high school, I went through the pseudo goth faze that almost every kid I knew went through, but I decided that it really wasn't for me. However, this was the time when I became the most familiar with body mods, having friends who had piercings and/or tattoos themselves, or family members, or friends who did. I found them fascinating; that someone would go and pay so much money for such a small piece of jewelry, to go and willingly sit and have someone poke a needle through your skin to make you more beautiful in your own eyes (bear in mind, I was of the 'piercing-gun to the ears' generation). I thought they were beautiful, these piercings. I didn't fully understand them, nor did I understand the motives behind them. Yet I still loved them, loved the look of them. Ever since I was a freshman, I wanted a labret. Just a plain, simple, run-of-the-mill labret. A small silver ball sitting peacefully under my lower lip, just chilling out on my face. And yet, it would appear that this would never be the case. Quite honestly, I didn't really consider it seriously, since I knew what my mother's reactions to it would be, and I knew quite well that she ran the ship around here.
So, my interests in piercing got pushed to the back, things like marching band, chorus and theatre taking up the vast majority of my time. Just last year, I found out that one of my friends is an aspiring tattoo artist, and it got me thinking. Jake loves his tattoos (he has quite a few now), and loves body mods. His parents are rather strict, almost like mine, and yet here he is, doing something he loves, even while he is working at getting his degree. His admission re-kindled my interest in piercings, and when he sent me the URL for this site, I was automatically hooked. I remember spending hours going through all the pictures I could find of each mod as it was mentioned, discovering new procedures that I had never thought of getting, now things that I'm positive I will get sometime in the near future. I loved looking at the picture galleries, since to me, all the people shown there were happy. They might not be 'happy' as in frolicking-in-a-field-of-daisies kind of happy, but here they were, taking steps to change themselves to make them more beautiful. I wanted that. I wanted it so much that it made my chest hurt. It sounds rather melodramatic, but still. Have you ever experienced that kind of longing? Of knowing that there is something out there that can make you so much more fulfilled?
Now, I'm not saying that getting pierced or getting a tattoo will automatically make me happier, since I have been battling with depression for many years, but I know that if I can sit down and take that step to making myself who I think I am, I will be happier.
I want to pierce. I've decided that maybe if I can start my life on this foot, I'll be able to make myself stronger. The only problem is my parents. My mother balked at my mention of something as simple as a navel ring, I only shudder to imagine her reaction to my getting a vertical bridge. She tells me that if I get any piercings or tattoos, I'm out of the house and out of the will. The thing is, as soon as June 13 comes around, I'm out anyway. I know there's no way I can live at home and be happy. I love my parents, but we are too different for us to be able to live under the same roof anymore. My father simply told me that he didn't want me to stretch, which is too bad. When I recently brought up the issue again with my mother, she didn't screech as badly this time (some improvement: good), but she was still adamant. No piercings, no tattoos. She wants me to remain as the little girl she remembers from our years in Prague. I tried to tell her that when I get my mods I won't change as a person in the least, but she refuses to listen to me. My father has become silently resigned to letting her take the reigns, so I know I can expect very little from him in the swaying-her-opinion department.
And the funny thing is this: I know I can't get any kind of mods without my parent's consent (since I'm still a minor), and yet I know I will. As soon as I'm of legal age, I'm moving out, bunking up with a friend, whatever, and starting my 'journey'. I have spent the past year and a bit drawing out my tattoo designs, putting them through constant changes, tweaking the colors, the fonts, the placement. I have photoshopped pictures of myself to include 'piercings', and kept them in places where I could easily access them, letting myself see how I would look with what I wanted done. I'm going to go out and get what I want done whether or not my parents agree, but it saddens me that they won't meet me in the middle here. I love my parents, but I love myself more. And I think that being true to yourself, however you see fit, is more important than molding yourself to fit into someone else's pre-conceived notion of who you should be.
That little girl is still somewhere deep inside me, but, like caterpillars will turn into their butterflies, I will change, will get those piercings, will decorate my body with a colorful and deeply meaningful design. I want to be that person who wears who they are on their skin. Clothing and makeup, while saying something about you, do you no justice. Changing your style is so easy, you can be super-preppy one day and then a grunge rocker the next. But a tattoo is indelible proof of you as you. Your own human being, your own self. I want to make myself me.
Just a letter to all those of us who cannot do what we want, at least for a little while. I know how you feel, quite well, and I understand. Even if your friends shun you, even if your family looks upon your marks with disdain, I know. I have been lucky in that my friends and their families have been very supportive of me, offering advice and suggestions of how to best go about doing things. Even if my mother freaks when I come home for the holidays with a few new decorations, I know that with time she will come around.
Hang in there.
Much love,
Felonaz