I wanted to be many things when I was little but none of them were what was expected of me. I came alive when I listened to music, sang with the choir, or doing drama at college. I remember dressing up as Madonna to perform a “colourful” dance routine in front of students and teachers at my Catholic school – although the nuns didn’t seem to enjoy it. At age 8, a teacher referred to my writing praising my creative imagination. At secondary school, another said I was a diamond in the rough – although he did place quite a lot of emphasis on the “rough” part.
At fifteen, I was made to choose a “serious” career. “Arts will bring you no money, Jess”. Unlike many of my peers, I didn’t want to be a teacher, or work in a bank, become a doctor or a high-paid lawyer.
With no means of studying anything creative or artistic, to please my parents I decided on a career in teaching English. Years have passed and that first choice has turned into a nasty habit: pleasing others ad infinitum. Maybe I should have pushed harder, maybe I should have left home sooner, but I chose the path of least resistance: the cruelest on myself.
I worked as a teacher and was good at it, but ultimately it made me miserable. I tried working in office buildings, managed myself brilliantly through meetings and presentations, but inside I was in an permanent state of anxiety, hating going to work. Eventually it made me sick.
I did enjoy dressing mannequins and styled a high-end fashion store. I was also in my element during some bizarre sessions with a couple of Belgian music producers, straining my vocal chords to sing some dance club anthem – don’t ask for those recordings, I have skilfully misplaced them. The first time a magazine published an article I wrote I felt like the happiest person in the world. All of these activities paid little, or nothing.
After years of soul searching, life in different countries, jumping from one job to the next, and disappointing some people, I finally get it. I am a certain type of person, with a particular DNA and a specific make up. It means I don’t function properly in an office environment. Routine isn’t for me. It just doesn’t work.
It’s not about getting over it, changing, trying harder, or repeating questionable pseudo-mantras like “no one really enjoys their job”. Life is about accepting who you are, loving yourself for it, and making the most of your existence.
So…
This past weekend I travelled to London, and following my cousin’s Nic advice, went to Sims Tattoos in Croydon. I already had two tattoos, a dragon on my left shoulder, and some stars on my ribs. A few months back I had decided on what I wanted next: a peacock feather with a specific detail on the tip.
I chose to remain open minded about the design, had thought about some colours, but nothing more. A few minutes after meeting Michi, the guy about to decorate my right foot, I felt strangely at ease with him, so I followed his suggestions on the design.
I’m not going to lie, it hurt like hell. Having my ribs tattooed was painful, but this time the session lasted more than 3 hours, which meant Michi worked, repeatedly, on heavily bruised skin.
I worked through the pain in several ways: I had an “extremely chatty phase”, bombarding Michi with questions, trying to distract myself by finding more about his life – being nosy, a very Mediterranean way of dealing with pain. Then I went through the “get me out of here phase”, physically pulling away from him, as if wanting to detach my foot from my body. My cousin had to keep pushing me onto the chair to stay still.
Through those long hours, Michi was simply brilliant. The man is pure talent, and I wished I could make him justice through my words. He drew a bit of a draft (Head to Sims Tattoo facebook page to see the process) with a magic marker, to then, grab the needles, and proceed to do the tattoo freehand. He made the feather beautifully fold onto itself on the top left side and I love that. It looks like it’s moving. The tip of the feather has a writer’s quill on it. It’s simple,yet so skilfully drawn. Part of me was feeling physically sick at the pain, the other part was in awe, seeing a true artist create a stunning piece of work.
To me, this tattoo is a celebration of something I’m good at, a side of my personality that for years I thought was worthless. A part of me I was told would bring me no joy. I cannot thank Michi and the team at Sims Tattoos enough. I also want to thank gorgeous Nic for being the best tattoo-buddy ever.
I do live up to what a writer is, I am creative and sometimes intense. I am also generally skint. I can barely pay my bills, I have no money for fancy holidays, clothes – my other passion – and if any of my dogs require any veterinary care it means I can eat only pasta for a month.
I know not everyone will agree with my choice of lifestyle. Not everyone likes tattoos. I know some will read this post and think that I will never grow up. I know some still think I’m not good enough for them or their loved ones.
However, I’m loving being a writer more than ever. While I may disappoint others with my choices, I’m not letting myself down anymore. This is who I am, and I now have a piece of art on one of my feet to remind me.
*If you want to see more of Michi’s work you can follow his Instagram account at @michelich, or find him via Sims Tattoo on Facebook.
**If you want to see more of my writing go to fashionlimbo.com/work
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