Midnight Delirium

Today, as I showered (this is the place where I have the best debates with myself and also the place where I come to my biggest conclusions!) I remembered a time back when I was young. Can you believe I went for around 5 years of my life wearing a jacket or a long sleeve even during the summer?

I did! I’ve always had problems with my arms, they were too weird, too skinny, too long, but so far, I never really paid much attention to any of that, until one day, during my English class, a boy named Apollo (I was around 9 years old, so he was probably younger than me, so don’t come for him ok), who was sitting on the chair next to me and accidentally touched my arm with his, looks down and goes “ew, what are those marks?” And yanks his arms to get them as far away from mine as he could.

I always knew I had those marks, some of them were there ever since I can remember, others were from mosquito bites. And a few were birth marks. Apollo was very white, me, I’m a mix, I know my father’s side of the family comes from Italy, but on my mother’s side, all I know is that my grandpa’s family came from Spain and from my grandmother’s side, my great great grandmother was indigenous, I don’t know where her “husband” was from, but somewhere in Europe, probably.

And that was not the first time I was ashamed of myself, my body, or my skin, but that was the first time someone else expressed pure disgust for it, and that hurt!

So, for years and years after this episode I would wear a jacket or a long sleeve anywhere and everywhere, and if someone ever asked me why, I would say “I can’t loose my style”.

But that’s so crazy, huh? How much things can leave a scar on us, I have now filled my arms with tattoos, and I know that a little bit of the reason behind that was to convince myself not to hide my arms anymore. Instead, teach me to love them, to appreciate them, to be proud of them!

My skin, my color, my marks, are a part of all of us, Brazilians, we are a mixed race, and that is nothing to be ashamed of!

So, I guess that’s all, guys, if you read it until here, I just wanted to say thank you. I’ve aways wanted a place to have those conversations, to share my inner monologues and now, here we are. Thank you for reading, and if you want to talk about anything, hit a girl up!

Sobre Tatuagem

Eu não sei se todos os tatuados aqui se sentem desta forma, mas eu tenho uma relação mais que especial com as minhas tattoos. Quando eu paro e me olho, vejo todos esses desenhos na minha pele, me dá uma felicidade enorme.

Eu nem sempre gostei de tatuagens, por anos da minha vida, jurava de pés juntos que JAMAIS faria uma, era influenciada por um lado mais conservador da família, e julgava até a minha própria mãe (me desculpa mãe, sei que já pedi, mas é sempre bom reforçar). Quando eu entendi que tatuagem era uma arte, uma forma de expressão, eu já comecei a pensar em tudo que eu queria para sempre gravado em mim. Mas não foi fácil, no começo, toda vez que eu fazia uma nova tatuagem, ao invés de me sentir livre, e mais eu mesma, eu me sentia uma decepção, eu era julgada, ouvia coisas que doíam.

Com o tempo, graças a Deus isso foi melhorando, e acredito que essas pessoas que me julgavam, começaram a entender que meu corpo é meu templo, e nele quero deixar marcas, representações de momentos, de sentimentos, e de amores, e que a tatuagem não me diminui, ela me aumenta, ela me acrescenta, ela conta a minha história na minha pele. Tem algo mais bonito que isso? Por isso hoje, quando eu me vejo, TODA RABISCADA, um próprio gibi ambulante, eu tenho o MAIOR orgulho do mundo!

About Tattoos

I don’t know if everyone who has a tattoo feels the same way, but I have a very special relationship with my tattoos. When I stop to look at myself, and see all the drawings on my skin, it gives me an insane amount of happiness.

I haven’t always loved tattoos, you know, at some point I would proudly and loudly say that I would NEVER get one done, I was influenced by a conservative side of the family and I used to judge even my own mother (I’m sorry mom, I’ve apologized before, but it is always good to reinforce it). When I understood that tattoos were art, and a way of expressing yourself, I started wondering about everything I wanted to have forever engraved on my own skin. But it wasn’t easy, in the beginning, anytime I would get a new tattoo, instead of feeling free, and more myself, I would feel ashamed, and that I was a disappointment,

I was judged, and I heard things that really hurt me! With time, thanks to the Lord, things started getting better, I believe that those people that once judged me started to understand that my body is my temple, and I want to decorate it with memories, of hardships, of love, of feelings, and that the tattoos don’t diminish my value, they increase it, they add to who I am, they tell my story on my skin. Is there anything more beautiful than that? That’s why now, when I look at myself SCRAWLED, a walking comic book, I am the PROUDEST person there ever is!