Sometimes one has to crawl before they can fly. I learned that the hard way recently.
After getting over my huge fear of needles, I wanted to graduate to getting a tattoo.
People with tattoos fascinate me on several levels.
One, the audacity to walk around the world with visual markers on their skin.
Two, the bravery to get one at all.
Three, I admire their boldness to claim space on their bodies as their own.
I tried SO hard to get that tattoo, thinking my fears were over. I kept picturing Zara, the wonderful character I created and admired. How she wouldn’t be afraid of a silly needle. She wouldn’t give it a second thought and just do it.
But I lost my nerve and bolted in typical ‘Sammy” fashion. Let’s just say it was pretty darn embarrassing.
I retreated into myself for a while and could only picture a tattoo rather than actually have one. It was time to get honest.
Beneath my irrational fears lies the real truth. It’s not needles that frighten me, but the lens of others.
As a young girl, I grew up leafing through beauty magazines and endured playground taunts that instilled the idea that my body was not my own, just solely there to be commented on. I knew I wasn’t the only girl out there experiencing this.
Before I lost some weight, that scrutiny was felt daily — people staring at what I was wearing, how well I wore it or not, measuring my validity against my body parts.
It’s come to the point that I’ve let others dictate what my body is or isn’t — which is only feeding my fears. I want to reach a place of acceptance, to love my body as it is and not allow the comments of others to affect me any longer.
I’m ready to take my body back and claim it as my own. Are you ready to do the same?