So I’ve had this tattoo for a long time now, but I haven’t talked much about it because my family is sometimes ultra conservative and my tattoos are a stain on my body (to them). But me and pretty much anyone else who loves tattoos knows this is simply not true and we wear our ink with pride.
(I talk like I’m a motorcycle gang member with full sleeves or something. I have two.)
On the other hand, I’m not the type of person who will go out and get a tattoo for the artwork of it all — I like mine to have a little meaning. Which is why I got a tattoo of Newfoundland on my inner wrist last summer while travelling around Lesbos, Greece.
Have I regretted it? Nope, not even a little. I still gaze lovingly at this baby every now and then, and I love pointing out particular places on the map where I’ve lived or loved.
Maybe it’s kinda like getting my hair done. I go through some major change in life and I feel like mixing things up a bit; celebrating with something monumental.
I figured after my first tattoo I’d be done with it. But my tattooed friends laughed and said, “This is just the beginning.” So a few months ago while in Sligo, I decided now was the time. I had just moved away from Newfoundland for the first time in my life; I was a freshly minted expat. And of course the idea of a new tattoo had been on my mind for awhile. My friends suggested Fatcat Tattoo Sligo and so I went to check it out and left with my mind made up.
I did hem and haw over the decision for awhile though. I knew I wanted something bigger, and I knew I wanted something in a watercolour style. (It’s pretty clear I’m obsessed with bright colours.) My tattoo artist had never done such a thing, but he expressed total confidence. And yeah, I’d say he pulled it off quite well.
My only issue is it’s a wee bit squished, on account of the size. To do it more accurately (like my Newfoundland tattoo), it’d have to be much bigger. And I wasn’t willing to do that. I suppose if I get pregnant my tattoo will go from a map to a globe? Ba dum tish.
But seriously you guys, I really, really love this look. You can hardly see it, but Ireland has the colours of the Irish flag.
BUT IT WAS ABSOLUTE HELL.
My wrist tattoo was so easy, I thought nothing of it. “Piece of cake,” I laughed, and shrugged. Until the two hours of agonizing torture started and I wanted to die in pain. Oh my god. Julia sat there patiently with me, occasionally snapping photos of my face contorted in agony. She’s a good friend. I made Snapchat history.
It’s funny, because I often forget it’s there. It’s not so obvious like my wrist. But I loved flaunting it on The Yacht Week this summer, and it gave me an odd confidence boost in my bikini. I’ve got the whole world on my hip, baby.
You might say that I like maps.
Will I get others? Hmm. Not now. Certainly not until I have more money, and certainly not until I’m sure of what else I want. No more maps.
