While I wouldn't mind having some cover-up or touch-up some to some of my tattoos, I don't hate any of them. They each have a story behind them, and deep meaning for me (which means you're about to journey into the corners of my psyche in a way that I generally reserve for my BFF or a 12-step setting, because I've grown to trust you all at YLF).

My first ever tattoo has long since been covered up, thank heaven. It was some sort of cross with rose and it was just revenge on my first husband for getting a tattoo without consulting me. A few years later, married to my second husband, the opportunity to have a really good artist cover it presented itself, and I chose Fantasia Mickey Mouse because life seemed rather fairy tale magical at the time. It used to be very vibrant and clear; however, weight gain and age have taken their toll. It's in a completely unseen area (carefully cropped photo LOL), so I haven't bothered to have it touched up.

My next tattoo was a band of tribal roses around my ankle. It was the 90s, when tribal was huge, and it was done in the very early days after my second divorce. It was kind of supposed to symbolize a fresh start, or new life, or something. It needs color added after all these years, but they said I turned green and quit breathing when the artist got to the Achilles tendon so I haven't been brave enough to try again LOL.

Next came a couple of drunken disasters that I eventually covered with this fairy sitting atop a large toadstool. It took me a few days of serious thought and soul searching to decide what to put there, because I knew that I was going beyond the point of no return with this one--there wasn't going to be much that could be done to cover up this cover-up of a cover-up if I ever changed my mind. This was in the late stages of active addiction; my subconscious knew it was time to stop but my conscious didn't (or something). I deliberately asked that the fairy look a bit faded and worse for the wear to symbolize all I had been through and survived. The mushroom is the cover up, and it needs major professional help; however, it can be easily covered and I have other priorities (and other tattoos I want to add that speak to who & where I am now). This is the one that absolutely, positively HAD to be covered by clothing for my sister's wedding.

The last tattoo I got was a symbol that represents the particular 12 step fellowship where I got clean and learned how to live. It is discreetly tattooed on the inside of my right wrist, right where a medical professional would take my pulse. I got it around 6 months clean to remind myself where home was in case I ever thought about doing some more "research" (aka relapse). This is the tattoo I want to build upon; adding more bits of my recovery until it's more of a sleeve than a collection of "badge" tattoos.

In a small way, my tattoos are like scars, in that they are the story of my life. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the indifferent; there they are. If you're still here reading and looking, thank you for being a safe place to show them and talk about them. Now, I'm going to go cry for what could have been, and for the hope I have about what could be in the future.