The Mysterious Case of the Disappearing Tattoo

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Have you ever found yourself thinking about something for weeks…months…or even YEARS? Just turning it over and over in your brain, weighing every pro and con, unable to make a decision?

This was me. For decades, I’ve mulled over the idea of getting a tattoo.

My parents were always very supportive of me and my choices—but one message they repeated a lot in my early formative years was, “…just nothing permanent”. I’ve been a ‘tattoo support person’ for more than one or two friends over the years, and always wondered whether I would ever be brave enough to go under the needle myself. I certainly never saw myself as being chill or spontaneous enough to just rock up to a tattoo parlour and go for it. No, no….to me, this was a life-altering decision that needed dedicated consideration and meditation!

In my 20s, I wanted to get a little wave (this was in the height of my ‘Blue Crush’ era), but just one teensy tiny enough that I could hide it under an armful of bracelets, or maybe forget about it on my ankle if I didn’t like it. I talked about it with friends, and even drew it on myself a few times with a black pen or marker, just to ‘get a feel for it’. If nothing else, I was certainly CONSISTENT in my vision.

At some point in my 30s, that vision for a tattoo grew a tiny bit bolder, and I decided that, if I ever got a tattoo, I wanted to get the quote ‘go the distance’ tattooed on my rib cage. This idea was an homage to my favourite movie to watch with my Dad, Field of Dreams. I even asked him (days before he died suddenly) if he would be willing to come get a tattoo with me…he was surprised, to say the least!

Now, I’ve written about this before here…but after my Dad died, we found a song that he had written (but never shared with us) in one of his song books. It was about my Mom, my brother, and me. It was like unearthing buried treasure—a totally unexpected and priceless discovery, for sure. This is when things—after more than 2 decades of tattoo deliberation—finally clicked into place.

A fellow expat and close friend of mine had recommended a tattoo artist to me a few years back, and I had been following her on Instagram ever since…she was based out of a nearby city in Germany and was well-known online for a creative project she offered, in which she translated songs into tattoos for customers. I reached out to her with an inquiry and, within a matter of weeks, we were in discussions together and arranging a date and time for my first ever tattoo appointment!

Exciting! (…and also a teensy tiny bit terrifying!)

Prior to the tattoo appointment, I spoke about my emotions at length with a friend and mentor of mine. I told her that I wanted to let go of any anxiety I was holding onto, and just trust the process (and the artist!!). I didn’t want to hijack the creative process of designing the tattoo, since the whole point was to allow the song to be interpreted by the artist…but I also found it almost impossible to sit back and not get involved. When my artist sent me a rough first sketch of the design idea, I just couldn’t seem to connect to it. My mind started racing almost immediately.

Unsurprisingly (to me, and possibly to anyone who knows me), I quickly threw out my well-intentioned plan to remain ‘hands off’, and took over creative control the night before my appointment. When I awoke the next morning to a calm, but somewhat firm/frustrated reply from the artist, I felt crushed. I had failed at the ONE thing I really wanted this day and appointment to represent—letting go, trusting the process, and remaining curious…without worrying about the outcome.

My husband drove me to the appointment, and I just sat in the passenger seat and STARED at the sketch she had interpreted for me, based on my Dad’s lyrics. I focused all of my energy onto it, and asked myself WHY I was not connecting with it…

Then suddenly, my mind’s eye changed one teensy tiny detail—and the whole thing fell into place.

It was perfect. Her design was exactly what I wanted/needed. SO MUCH SO, that I decided right then and there in the car that I wanted to get the tattoo on my inner forearm, where I could see it every single day…a far cry from the girl in her 20s who debated for years about where to hide a baby wave!

The appointment was a DREAM. Honestly, it was almost like a meditative experience for me. I was absolutely thrilled with the outcome, and was so proud of myself for finally leaning in and trusting the universe. I left my appointment with a song in my heart, a BEAUTIFUL fine-line tattoo, and a detailed ‘After Care To-Do (and Not Do!) List’. I was going to look after this tattoo like nobody’s business!

And I did just that.

For the first few days, I followed my after-care instructions to the letter. I fell asleep each night smiling, and woke up the next day with that same smile on my face! I was so proud of this new part of me (and memory of my Dad), and wanted to show off my tattoo to anyone and everyone that would listen!

But after about 5-6 days, I started to notice that some of the lines were already starting to fade. A few days later, I was convinced that I was going crazy, or at the very least, doing something REALLY wrong…how could this PERMANENT decision I had finally made (less than 2 weeks ago!!), one that I was SO PROUD of and HAPPY with, be trying to pull a disappearing act?! It’s a tattoo, for goodness sake!!

If I hadn’t been so distraught about it, I might have laughed. 2 decades of deliberation, one VERY happy customer…and yet, the Universe was not done teaching me whatever lesson it needed me to learn from this whole experience.

After a few restless nights, I finally decided to message my tattoo artist to ask what she thought. She had informed me that a touch-up was free, and to reach out after a month with photos if I was concerned at all (this is apparently quite common-place for fine-line tattoos). I hummed and hawed before sending the DM, as I was concerned about being the ‘whiny woman who was difficult to please’. After all, it had only been a week! (Can I just ask, how many MEN would feel concern about this??). After some intense soul-searching, I decided that I had invested a lot of time, money, and energy into this tattoo, and was deserving of some information and her professional expertise.

Needless to say, the artist got back to me very quickly, and informed me that I would, in fact, need a touch-up. She reassured me that some skin absorbs fine-line ink more/quicker than others, and that a touch-up would fix the issue and leave the tattoo as vibrant and beautiful as it started out.

And that’s where I’m at. Currently 4 weeks in, with a seriously faded (but still BEAUTIFUL) tattoo. No set date yet for a touch-up, as that still needs to be coordinated between myself and the artist.

So what lesson is the Universe trying to teach me through all of this, you ask?

I wasn’t entirely sure at first, but I had a sneaking suspicion that this might be a ‘sacred clown’ moment. I asked ChatGPT to help me break it down for me, and the response I received was too perfect not to share:

“In many traditions (including Native American and Tibetan practices), the sacred clown exists to show us the folly of taking life too seriously. It reminds us that life’s deepest truths often arrive as irony. You waited 20 years for a tattoo that felt permanent—a mark of meaning you could hold forever. And then, it began to fade. The cosmic joke is: even the things we carve into our skin aren’t immune to change. We spend so much energy trying to control life, only to be humbled by its fluidity. The lesson? Cherish meaning, not permanence, and laugh at life’s humbling surprises, because everything changes—even us.”

That’s pretty spot-on, I’d say.

xx

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