I regret my tattoos, they are a form of self-harm

Imagine you had to put a shirt on in your twenties and now you have to wear it for the rest of your life. That is what it feels like to get heavily tattooed before you turn into a fully developed adult human.

I’m covered in tattoos and I pretty much regret all of them. A lot of people think I got the tattoos for the aesthetic or to be cool. But the reason I got them was very important to me at the time.

All my tattoos are custom and very expensive. I had somebody draw them up to the specifications of exactly what I wanted to make my body look a certain way.

In fact, my tattoos are for anti-aesthetic reasons.

I’m 36. But 20 years ago, because I look a certain way, people—mostly men—had preconceptions about what I’m like and who I was. But I knew I was not like they thought.

Guys would expect me to be their all-American breeder housewife. Women would think that I was stuck up or full of myself.

So being able to control what my body looked like was very important to me. There were many other ways I could have gone, but I picked tattoos. They were how I took control.

To me, though, my tattoos are a form of self-harm.

I was not in an environment where I felt safe to be soft or vulnerable back then, so I wanted to look different. Nobody else was as tattooed as I was. I wanted to look harder. I wanted to not be noticed by a bunch of dudes.

I wish today’s me could have told me then: “Hey, that’s like a thing for guys, it’s kind of worse.”

Now that I’m in a place in my life where I can be soft, where I can be gentle, I wish that I didn’t have these to make me hard or remind me of that time. But I do, and I kind of regret it.

I think if you asked almost anybody that’s over 30, if they have a better idea of who they are in their thirties than in their twenties, they will strongly relate to how I feel.

I have all these tattoos that don’t necessarily reflect who I am at 36. They reflected a moment of time in my twenties—a moment in time that I was not doing so well mentally—and they are here forever.

I have a lot more femme, girly aesthetic than when I was younger. I was a lot darker and spooky and moody. Now I have adult problems and have gone back to stuff I liked doing when I was a kid, like collecting antiques and spending time outside.

I’m not getting all of my tattoos removed; that’s not even feasible. The tattoo art is great and I still get a ton of compliments. I just wish they weren’t on my body.

I spent a lot of money on those tattoos. They were pretty expensive, which could be a regret in itself. I probably should have done something better with that money when I was in my twenties.

Some of my tattoos are 15 years old, but they’ve held up very well. The linework is still good. I get stopped about one on my left forearm all the time. It took six, four-to-five hour sessions and it’s colorful and beautiful. But I still regret it.

Another tattoo I get a lot of compliments for is on my neck. It’s a gray wash ornamental tattoo based on antique lace.

My dumbest tattoo is actually well done, but it has been exposed to a tanning bed so doesn’t look as great as it probably would have. It’s large and on my upper right leg. I’ve had it for twelve years. There was a moment for thigh sleeves around the time I got this.

It’s Lady Death riding a pale horse side saddle. In order for people to see it, I kind of have to pivot while they look. It’s impossible to see the whole thing otherwise. And I also have a horse permanently riding towards my crotch.

My chest tattoo, which covers the whole area, has cost me tens, perhaps even hundreds, of thousands of dollars.

I was a commercial actor, model, and influencer. I lost out on many jobs during negotiations with brands when it came to final approval because of my chest tattoo. It was just a little too hardcore for them. Even in some of the jobs I actually got, my chest tattoo was photoshopped out.

I don’t mind the tattoos on my ribs, they are both delicate and easily hidden, and I do not think they would have ever interfered with any work opportunities or caused me to be labeled as a “tattooed person.”

There is an element of stigma or taboo in talking about tattoo regret. You don’t want to feel like the boomers were right or hear “I told you so”.

I’ve actually had the worst comments from some people in the “tattoo community.” They have been the quickest and loudest to invalidate my experience.

My story seemed to feel to many as if it were a personal attack on them. It was interpreted as me telling them they would eventually regret their tattoos, rather than just sharing that I was someone who thought I never would, but I do.

I have been told by other members of the “tattoo community” that I must have gotten tattooed for the wrong reasons or that I am a poser, which is wild considering that my style and preferences were the same from the early 2000s until maybe 2018/2019.

If that is being “fake” or just “living for aesthetics,” I certainly managed to do it for nearly two decades.

But I spoke up because I think it’s important to connect to other people who feel similarly and help them to feel more seen or like they’re not alone.

I was told that I would regret my tattoos when I got older. I am older and I do regret my tattoos; you might too. However, the way I experience regret informs my growth.

Everyone should be able to look back on the things that they’ve done and reflect; think about what they would do differently now. I don’t believe in a “no regrets” lifestyle because it’s less likely to drive a positive change in your life.

I hardly notice my tattoos most of the time, but it sucks when I get pigeonholed for them. Still, I’m much more chill about them than I used to be. I don’t let it affect me. I’ve done a lot of therapy, worked on my mental health, gotten to know myself better, and also had an autism diagnosis.

I can’t just snap my fingers and undo what happened or travel back in time to change it. I just look at it now and acknowledge that it’s not something I would do today, and I keep it moving.

Sara Mills is a 36-year-old chronic oversharer living in coastal Virginia with her partner of 11 years and two poodle mix dogs. You can find her on TikTok and Instagram.

All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

Do you have a unique experience or personal story to share? Email the My Turn team at myturn@newsweek.com

The post I Regret My Tattoos, They Are a Form of Self-Harm appeared first on Newsweek.

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