It’s been three years and I’m right where I started in Seattle. Greatly improved, but in the same place. No matter how the judges score, I definitely stuck the landing. Tattooing my neck is a culmination of my experiences here. I couldn’t have reached this point back in my hometown no matter how much I rebelled. Out here the hardest part to deal with is literal pain. Strangers take no glee in openly judging my personal appearance and most unsolicited comments are well-intended. It’s opposite of the ridicule my elders claimed I’d be subject to. They would’ve done better telling me how much it physically hurts. That pain is real.

The intensity of a neck tattoo is easier to bear the third session in. Partially because this is a brand new artist and partially because I came prepared. Letting the pain pass through me, small encouragements from the artist made the time feel easy. Without even knowing how beautiful the result would be I’m just grateful Abby is willing to work on this piece. A large foray into realism, I should have known there’s no way to capture the beauty of flowers with accuracy. Perfectionism yields the shape of what I wanted but there is no life in the plant. A flat palette of rich colors, no amount of shadowing could make those leaves look alive.  My new artist brought bright movement to the back of my neck, giving this sunflower it’s first taste of reality.

I don’t mind spending money on a professional, especially when they are already easy to work with. Only charging me for 2 hours, I paid for two and a half with the intention to show appreciation. An extra hundred bucks to maintain good communication and camaraderie. I feel like this is a turning point for my appearance. I’ve graduated beyond childish decoration, now chiseling my true form out of the flesh I was born with. A pretty flower now, new owls tomorrow and eventually a portrait of my cat. I will run out of time and money before I run out of ideas.