My Ink Story

"That's trashy."
"What are your kids going to say?"
"I bet your parents disowned you."
"I can't believe you did that."
"What a reckless decision."
"You didn't strike me as a trashy girl."
"You shouldn't have one since you're a lady."
"That's unladylike."
"But you're a girl."
"But you're Catholic..."
"I bet it's ugly when you're older."
"Have you considered laser removal?"
"First one, then a sleeve huh?"
"Were you drunk?"
"Do you smoke cigarettes too now?"
"You'll regret it in five years."
"Now you won't be able to get a job."
"You don't look like that kind of person."

These are all things that people have said to me. Sadly, the most recent one was "I thought you were a lady. That's so unladylike and trashy."

Apparently I don't look like "that kind of person" and how could I possibly since I am Catholic?

I doubt more than half of you knew that I had a tattoo. It's not visible to the common eye and on any given occasion most of you wouldn't see it anyways.

However, regardless of all of these negative comments I've received, I could care less. I think I speak for many people with tattoos when I say I don't give a f*** what you think. It is my body and it was my decision and it is a part of me that I have come to love.

Thanks to the several negative reactions I've received recently when I tell people "I have a tattoo", I thought it would be an appropriate time to reflect on why I decided to get it in the first place.

First of all, this was not a rebellious act when I turned 18 to stand out as an adult. I decided to get my tattoo after a year of consideration the summer following my 20th birthday. I decided on a simple tattoo, 3 simple words, written in simple black cursive, a reminder to myself of who I am and what I am made of:

Fuerza desde adentro

What you don't know when you made these comments is that this tattoo, to me, symbolizes the struggles that I overcame that year. That year, I had two of the most important things in my life taken away from me.

For 15 years, I lived and breathed soccer. It was my blood and sweat. I couldn't imagine my life without it. But then, unexpectedly and all of a sudden, I wasn't able to walk. I could not even put my foot on the ground without shrieking in pain. Later, I found out this was because I literally had no cartilage on my hip, as well as almost every ligament/tendon/muscle/tissue was torn and destroyed. My entire ball-and-socket joint was bone grinding on bone any time I shifted or moved. After surgery, that love of mine was taken away.

After a long , painful, and stressful recovery, another important part in my life was taken. In July of 2013, my Papaw was gone. I held his hand as he was taken off the breathing machine and held tight as he took his last breath on Earth. Apologies for being blunt, but I tell you what, holding someone you love as you watch them leave this world will mess with your emotions and mind. I struggled with it for awhile and doubted the strength, if any, that I had.

After my two loved ones were taken away, in my mind, I needed to do something radical, something to prove my strength because at that point, I felt shattered. As many of my close friends know, one of my 3 fears in life is needles. I absolutely cannot stand needles and swore I would never get a tattoo, mainly because of that extreme fear.

But that changed the summer of 2013. I decided to get a tattoo that meant something to me, that no one could ever take away from me. For my gringo friends who can't speak Spanish, my tattoo reads:

Strength from within

To me, it was something simple but I knew it was exactly what I wanted. I reflected for a few days, sketched it out a gazillion times on a yellow notepad, practicing to make it perfect. Then there was my enlightening moment. It was an afternoon in the gym in which I was trying to lift weights like I used to in my off-seasons and I could not find the strength to push through my workout. It was at that exact moment, drenched in sweat and frustration, that I said screw it. I drove to the tattoo parlor without telling anyone where I was going or why.

It only took my tattoo artist like 8-10 minutes and surprisingly it was over before I knew it. I chose to have it written in the language that I have come to love, that has shaped who I am (that's my gringa side in case you were wondering). Placed along the inside curve of my right hip, to many, you would not understand my choice for the location. Maybe you think I put it there because it looks hot when I wear a bikini. However, if you look closely, you will notice my tattoo is precisely located between the two sets of scars I have: the set of scars from my hip surgery and the set of scars from when I was on kidney dialysis and a feeding tube as an infant (bet you didn't know that I had Hemolytic Uremic Syndrome and was hooked up to machines as an infant either did ya? Talk about some serious strength from within.)

For those of you who said "I bet your parents disowned you", SURPRISE! They didn't.

Both my mom and dad were more than supportive and if anything, they said they loved me more (if that was even possible) for having the courage to overcome one of my biggest fears. Of course they only became aware of it after it had already been permanently inked on my body, but they were not upset in the slightest. And even funnier? Neither of my grandmas disowned me either! My family members that have seen it love it and often brag to others about it when the topic of tattoos arises, saying it is SO representative of the kind of girl I am and could not be more perfect for me.

So for those of you who say "You don't look like that kind of girl" or "But you're a girl!", newsflash: Chicks can have tattoos too! 

I don't dress sleazy, wearing crop tops and low-rise jeans that display my tattoo for everyone to see because I don't see it as something to brag about. As I have said many times before, I etched it on my body for me, myself, and I, as a constant reminder of what I am made of.

I wasn't drunk when I decided to get it, I was still able to get a job, I don't smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, and I won't be getting a sleeve. Will I get a second tattoo? Yes, I've considered it. But the stereotypes behind girls having tattoos (or tatted people in general) is ridiculous. I also don't regret it three years later and when my kids ask me about it, I have no problem telling them the stories of the difficult times I overcame and how my tattoo represents strength in itself. It represents when I looked my biggest fear in the eye and instead of having an emotional breakdown full of tears and anxiety like many of those that made up 2013, I took a deep breath and stepped forward with an open mind. 

Bottom line, I don't care what you think of my tattoo because I did it for myself, not for you. People need to stop judging people with tattoos. Every tattoo has a story behind it, a reason for being designed, and this is mine.

Besos,
Haley