Following up on a previous reader photo submission, Juan has shared his unique body art story. Parts of Juan's story have been removed due to their sensitive nature, but once again the meaning behind his modifications never fails to touch the heart.
Well, Jodie, come to my story:
I started to tattoo me at age 20 (now have 42 years) by hand, without experience, doing a fudge. Then I followed in a study, paying and to machine. When I was 29 years old and 17 tattoos (year 2000), I stopped doing so, I went to work at Mallorca, I returned to Ca¡diz, I went, I went... But already I do not tattoo me until the year 2011 (12 years without ink).
I've always preferred to go to the beach before tattooing. There are only two passions in my life (several hobbies, but two passions): music and the sunny beach (Beach day). This has much to do with my story.
I love the beach and the Sun, my favorite star , the love of my life, my mother Sun.
I am a nudist, nudist authentic, no creams or nonsense unrelated to my skin (except ink, je je je!). You know, the tattoo world is deep, catches you, you absorb, makes you forget... Needless to explain what mean these marine waves, right, Jodie?
It is my Beach! It's my heart, my broken heart! Now I'm a baby without its preferred toy, its oldest toy (41 years of beach, even the winters). As I now don't have Sun, tattooing the face is something very deep, it isn't for anyone (except if you are in your tribe).
I knew what was the tattoo when I started the face. You don't know until you do the face. The hands are a medium step. The face, a huge step. If I had 6 sides, 6 sides would take these sea waves, and this indelible memory of my passion.
We are now going with my empty eye:
I was in the Spanish military conscription (in 1990, is not now mandatory). Then I went voluntarily to an elite corps, the Green Berets. There you mistreat everyone (I didn't know.)
On a weekend permit, I punctured me eye, voluntarily, with a needle. I came in the army as a soldier, and I was, months later, an infection in the balloon, and removing it (enucleation).
Since 1990 until October 2012 (22 years), I took a disturbing and disgusting eye prosthesis (glass eye). Disgusting dentures for a nudist (never wore it on the beach). When I started to tattoo the face, thought and thought the question of the eye... for what wear a prosthesis, if with facial tattoo no one will give me work? Yes, because the false eye I placed it me for work (or look for work), but he didn't have it all day.
And I found the solution, eureka!, je je je! I shed in that fake, forever, eye with a piercing to my taste, a practical piercing (serves to maintain the upper lashes up, and that will not bother in the inner part of the other eyelid [I know it by many years experience], because sink there). This is the good thing about my story, my release of the fake and disgusting eye (not meet no one-eyed man that much as I despise).
I was never authentic when he wore the eye since. It is a mask. Nudists have no masks, are clean and approachable [hearty]. Goodbye to the eye and his bad years in my face. I am free.
Ask me something, if you have any doubts (this Google translator is worse than my surgeon, ji ji ji!). I want you to know my story well. And write, I love (well, love [published a book in 1995], but not passion). And communicate. And foster.
Thanks, Jodie.
Thank you Juan. If you have any questions for Juan, please send an email to me at tattoo@aboutguide.com, and I'll get that message in a bottle.
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