Sometimes we judge people by the way they look…never fair but we always do until we hear someone’s story which can change things for the interpreter as well as the storyteller.
I remember going with my Mom to get blood work drawn which my Mom has to do every few months because she’s a liver transplant recipient. It was summertime and I was wearing a blouse with an open back and jeans. My mom and I sat next to each other chatted for a bit and I received a phone call from work so I stepped outside to take the phone call. When I returned the room was fuller and I wasn’t able to sit next to my Mom. An older lady leaned over to my Mom and chit chatted with my Mom and said, “what a shame a pretty girl with all of those tattoos”. My Mom leaned over to the older lady and said that girl with all of those tattoos is my daughter and she moved back home to help take care of me after my liver transplant”. The older lady leaned back over to my Mom, apologized and explained she had no idea what type of person I was. As the room cleared, I was able to sit next to my Mom and my Mom shared her story with me.
I couldn’t believe what my Mom had said. My Mom is against tattoos and not in a million years would I think she would say such kind words about her tattooed daughter and defend my body art. The reason I get tattoos is for me and no one else. It heals me and frees me from myself and let’s me express myself thru my art. When I first began I got tattoos to look cool and it eventually evolved to be my journey, so I remember my struggle and to not give up.