Leather Women
Ever since I can remember I’ve felt chronic dissatisfaction with ordinary. I think being average is something that I fear more than being singled out or ridiculed. Perhaps that is why instead of shedding the skin and identity I loathed so much, I submerged it in sprawling intricacies. Illustrations, depictions of the damaged soul inside. Many view it as art and just as many deem it as constructive self harm. I have come to recognize it as my evolution, just like an animal surviving in the wild. I changed my colors, distorted my appearance to mask the fact that I am vulnerable. I have many tattoos, some that cost several hundreds of dollars and quite a few hours of my life. Despite the fact the I love them with a fiery passion, they are too easy. I know because I’ve done 90% of my piercings and tattoos myself. I process pain better than most, sometimes I feel like it’s my biggest motivator. If it’s not hurting, did I do enough and did I do it right? The most extensive, grueling, painful and rewarding body modification I’ve subjected my body to is lobe stretching. Also known as ear gauging, it requires intense patience, a high pain tolerance and delicate mindfulness. It’s risky, it is almost unbearably nagging, the way it aches and burns. Because of my sensitive skin, I worried that I’d have to cut my losses. But my lobes and I have been together for almost 8 years now. They have long since healed and soon I will be due to size up. Just as one finishes a career goal to set a higher goal, my projection for my lobe size has increased exponentially over the years. I remember promising my mother I wouldn’t stretch them past the circumference of a number two pencil. As far as I know she’s forgiven me for not committing to that. I am at 1 ¼ inches, I am not done and this is the story of the artful self mutilation I am most proud of.