Exposed

There’s this new trend that I stumbled across a few weeks ago; people have been covering their scars with tattoos. I’m no stranger to tattoos. I myself have 5 (and counting). My argument for tattooing myself was always that I never chose to have my scars so I have every right to decorate the rest of my body the way I want. But there are three big reasons that I don’t think I could bring myself to getting tattoos to cover my scars:
  1. It would be incredibly expensive. I would need my whole stomach tattooed to cover my surgical incisions and my feeding tube scars. Then we’d move to my chest to cover scarring from central lines. Not to mention the half sleeves (yes both arms) that I would have to get to cover my PICC line scars. My tattoo artist is expensive as is, but the number of tattoos I’d need would cost more than I’d make in years of work.
  2. I can’t rationalize covering my scars. I told my tattoo artist when I got my first tattoo at sixteen that if I ever came to him with a tattoo idea, that he wasn’t to tattoo me without having a good reason behind the tattoo. To this day I stand by that. Every tattoo I have has a story or reason behind it. My scars have the longest and most meaningful stories. My scars are evidence of what I’ve been through and how I became the person I am today.
  3. Lastly, if/when I need another surgery, my beautiful tattoo that I paid arm and a leg for would be ruined. Surgery is a word that scares me more than anyone will understand. Just the word itself causes immense anxiety. I’ve had so many already you’d think they were easy for me, but it doesn’t take away the thought of, “I thought we were done…here we go again!” If I were to get a tattoo to cover my scar, another surgery would ruin my beautiful piece of art.


Now looking back at all this it may seem as if I’m trashing on others for doing this. That’s far from what I’m trying to portray. I know what it’s like to hate your scars. I was talking to my mom about it and she said, “I remember a time when you hated it,” and my only response was, “I still do.” For years after my last surgery I wouldn’t wear my normal bathing suits to the beach because I thought others would judge me. It took a woman on a cruise to tell me she had respect for my confidence in a bathing suit to realize they didn’t judge me in a negative way. Instead they understood I struggled and respected that I never let it win.


Nothing has changed how it looks, if anything more surgeries and time have made them looks worse. It’s me that’s changed. I don’t know who I would be if I weren’t sick. Honestly, the thought of that scares me more than surgery ever would. So why would I hide who I’ve become?

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