Triggering: How my body art helped me love me

[punkchique]

Hi!
So this is a long read, you don't even have to read it. I was in a really raw emotional state and I really just want to put it out to the universe.
If you do read it (thanks!) I apologize in advance for any errors/it being terrible. I intentionally didn't proofread because I wanted to capture how I was feeling exactly. So here goes:


the intricacies of every curve, of every branch, leads my eyes in a complicated dance up and down my side. I admire my curves., revel in every drop of femininity that seems to drip from my body now. I have never felt this way before. Never loved like this before

I remember times when the girl in the mirror was so grotesque to me. I could point out every. Single. Flaw. Why were her eyes so crooked? Why was her nose so ugly? She should suck in her stomach more. Yeah, like that. Maybe she wouldn't have to suck in so much if she didn't eat like a pig. I could go on and on and on and on. There was no one in this world who made me feel worse than myself. (fat ugly black fat ugly black fatuglyblack fatuglyblackfatuglyblack) I know too well what it feels like to wake up every morning hating myself.

why was every girl prettier than me? Why was every boy repulsed by me? But never mind the boys. All the magazines told me I don't need them anyway. I should just. Love. My. Self. But how could I possibly feel any better about myself when those perfect blue eyes stared at me out of that perfect porcelain face that framed those perfect rosy lips (perfect perfect perfect perfect), how could I love myself when everything around me was screaming at me that only perfection deserved to be loved! And I could only ever be imperfect...flawed (fatuglyblack)...wrong.

What if people found it easier to love me if I didn't look like me? And it began. The layers of powders and creams and pastes. And colors! Colors that made them forget about my tiny ears because oh look how pretty that pink is! Yes! Contouring, defining, covering, erasing, removing! A woman with gifted hands, my face a pallette to her pretty-making brushes. She didn't know me, but I let her define me, I let her turn me into...beauty. And there beauty was, looking back at me from the mirror. The girl in the mirror was beauty. The girl in the mirror wasn't me. Beauty wasn't me. but it was perfect. (perfect and wrong).

but beauty only lasted one night. And my poor imperfect untalented hands were not enough to bring back Beauty. But never mind that. I'll distract them with my body. No one need look at my face if I breasts were more inviting. The cut of my shirts and the length of my skirts whispered things my ugly little mouth could not say. Oh yes, the boys loved me then. Every touch was love. Every meaningles word was love.Every kiss, caress, and stroke was love. Every moment of attention every moment of tension building up into moments of passionless passion finally building their way up to a moment of unfulfilling ecstasy with no release must. Have. Been. Love. And every moment filled me with hate for the stupid girl who still wasn't loved. (too many tears shed)

I spent a long time like that. Too long. I know what it feels like to have hatred fester within me, made all the more painful because my the hate belonged to me.

it started off slow. It wasn't a real plan. Why not get another piercing, just more jewelry to distract them with anyway. I'd been penetrated so many times before, the puncture of a needle couldn't be any different. Besides, I relished the pain. And that's all it was for a while. Pain. Glorious pain. Because love hurts right? Love is pain? And beauty was also pain (lovepainbeauty perfection). But, somehow. Somehow. It began to feel different. Each new pieced of metal delicately inserted into my skin became something new for me to love...about myself. They weren't covering me up like the make up. Or telling me lies like the boys. No. They were a part of me. I loved them. They were me. I loved...me. And the tattoos. Each cycle of the needle in and out of my skin injected me with ink that was suddenly a part of me! Each stroke of that tattoo artists painful paintbrush created a new but of me that was love. And then I was in love. With myself.

now I can look at the woman in the mirror in front of me. Now I wonder how could the girl who came before her be so blind. But I see now. I see me and I see her. I see how delicately my ears cradle my daith and the beautiful line my industrial makes as it frames my ear and draws attention to my stretched lobes. I know these ears are loved. They're loved by the friends who've told them secrets. By my sisters who've told them their sorrows.

I see my nose, not delicate, but strong enough to not be overpowered by the steel that sits proudly on it. I know this nose is loved. It is loved by my mother who taught me how to blow it. By my father who appreciates how it knows just the right spices to chooses for the perfect dish.

I see my nipple ring which offsets the delicate contours of my breast. I know my breast are loved. By me, as I've ome to accept them big or small as a proud part of my femininity. They will someday be loved by the child of my who will one day suckle them.
my navel ring sits a little awkwardly over my belly button. But it's okay, because I'm a little awkward to. My dermal anchors on each side of it gives it a little support. And they are all loved. Every part of me is loved! Loved by me! My family! My friends! Loved by people I haven't even met yet! I. Am. Loved.

the crooked branches of my tree moves with me as I move in the mirror. The tendrils of its branches creep over my ribs. It's trunk hugs my curves. It's roots caresses my hip. Its not perfect, but its just right.


Thank you for listening.

[Singer180]

Very very nice! I'm glad you feel good about yourself as you should

[punkchique]

Thank you it took a while, but it's good to finally be in this frame of mind.

[Beetlejuice]

I absolutely love it! I think it's absolutely brilliant. It would make a fantastic monologue for a performance piece. It's style reminds me of The Vagina Monologues, now I think of it, it would fit right in perfectly, it;s just brilliant. Brilliantly written and has so much feeling captured in it! Hats off to you! I love it Keep writing!

[Unfortunate]

This is really good! Im glad to hear someone who love's their body. Keep writing! <3