Saturday, 17 July 2010

Lacoste the gecko

saturday afternoon: coffee and arts online

I got Lacoste about 5 years ago.
Lacoste is how my family calls my gecko tattoo: at that time my mother was adamant she didn't need any glasses, as she wasn't short-sighted, nor that old to require some reading glasses.
After getting the tattoo I had dinner with my parents and my dad, for once, was the first one to notice I had something new (he! the one who didn't notice when my sister got her hair coloured with stripes of metal green! The same one who noticed I had pierced my ears multiple times about 5 years later!).
He asked if it hurt and then said "hmmm", that translated from daddy-the-bear-ese to English sounds: "I quite like it and, as long as, you're happy with it I'm happy too, but don't ever think I'll tell this kind of stuff aloud".

My mum on the other side was more puzzled. She looked at me, scrutinized the tattoo, looked at me again and asked: "Why on earth did you want the Lacoste logo on your arm!?!"
Hence the name, Lacoste. When she saw it was not a crocodile, but a gecko, and it was not a commercial stunt, she said she liked it; and the following day she went to get herself a pair of glasses.

Somebody that didn't like my tattoo at all, was my boyfriend. Man, he hated it!
I must say there were several signs that should have warned me against him. Huge signs that shouted "Stay off! He'll only bring you misery", but I was blind (i.e. in love) and it didn't matter. But the tattoo was the first moment I started to believe the signs might be right.
He was at first shocked I went and got myself the tattoo without first asking him!
Yep, he had a very modern idea of the couple.

Then he went on with a long tirade of how I was going to feel about it when I grew old, and how the tattoo was going to look like over a wrinkeld skin. Not to mention, it looked so gross on me, being a woman. Yep, he had a very modern idea of women as well.

Then he asked me how I could have made such a big choice without thinking about it enough. I guess it's fair to say he didn't have strong belief in my reasoning skills either.

Last week, waiting for the train to Winchester, I met them:

They were going to the seaside and what immediately caught my eye was the tattoo the old lady sported so well and nonchalantly. Yes, it was a bit washed and the skin not smooth anymore, but it didn't seem like a big tragedy to her.
I guess the memories that came with it are what matters the most.

Somebody once said that love lasts forever but tattoo lasts six months longer. Quite fitting for me and my ex: needless to say, we didn't stand long.
But Lacoste still does. After 5 years the colors is not as brilliant, but I still find it beautiful and meaningful to me. I think it always will, no matter how faded or wrinkled it's going to be. I don't really like to talk about the meaning of it, when asked I give just a general idea, because the main reason behind it is something I shared with few people, as a sign of utmost, complete trust; sometimes I still put this trust in the wrong hands of people that haven't understood what a huge step was for me and regretted doing so, but even so, I've never stopped liking my tattoo.

After the gecko, I got other 2 tattoos and I don't regret them because they have a very special meaning to me and even when I'll become much, much older than what I already am, the meaning I gave them will still be there, enriched by some other memories: happy or unhappy they might be, they'll just make my tattoos and my story more colorful.

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