By Phobie E. Anqui
“Ngano ka gapatuhog? Mura ka’g carabao!”
“Ngano ka magtattoo? Hugaw raman nas lawas!”
Baseless words were muttered carelessly when somebody heard I had new piercings or gotten a tattoo. It’s no new cluster of words to hear when you’re someone who is pierced or tatted. Not to mention the whispers you get in grocery lines and innocent yet wondering stares from kids.
On the outside, many wouldn’t understand how a little hole in the ear, lip, or wherever it is would make somebody happier than they were before. Many don’t get how ink and skin fuse to make a person feel better. But here, I want to say a bit of my piece about why they matter so much to me.
I used to criticize how I look. I only had two piercings before, and whenever I looked at the scrawny 15-year-old in the mirror, I nitpicked places where I might have lacked.
“Basi kinahanglan ko magpaalot?”
“Basi kulang rako’g sudlay?”
“Ngano di ko pareha sa uban?”
“Ngano sila okay lantawon nya ako dili?”
“Ngano dili ko kompleto lantawon?”
I used to look at myself like I looked wrong. Why didn’t I like how I look? Why can’t I recognize myself?
That 15-year-old curious high schooler has now aged into a 22-year-old student in college. I discovered a piercing and tattoo shop near school through a friend who got their septum there. And suddenly, “magic” happened.
Just like adding stickers and gems to a notebook or laptop, I added piercings and a tattoo to my body. Finally, my body and face felt like my own.
Suddenly, I saw myself smiling happily and fully recognizing that it is me I see. There were no internal monologues of whether what part was wrong or what was missing. Smiles were, at last, the first to greet me rather than furrowed eyebrows when I stepped before a mirror.
Every piercing made me feel prettier. A tattoo made me feel like I had a bit more meaning.
Even if others don’t understand the whole concept of adding more ink or titanium to your body, I know for myself that every needle that graced my skin made it easier for me to smile at myself in the mirror.
