Growing up, I idolized my grandfather. He was a coal miner in West Virginia with a tattoo of a scantily clad woman on his forearm. I would run my hands across it, taking in the detail and color inked deep within his skin.

I knew back then I wanted a tattoo. At the age of 19, I worked up the courage to become permenantly inked. I picked out a dragon, because of their strength and power, and placed it on my right leg.

Since then I have had three additional tattoos, one on my left leg, one on the lower back and one on my neck.  The two on my back are reletively easy to hide but because of my love of wearing skirts, the ones on my legs are very visible. 

When I go out in public, I have experienced the rude stares and occasional comment from strangers about how terrible I am to have desecrated my body.  But I pay them no mind.  Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, as long as they don't force it upon others.

I love my tattoos and am even looking to add to my collection.  In a perfect world, there would be no discrimination against what a person looks like or what they have on their body, but unfortunately this is not a perfect world.  Those of us in the tattoo club will always be looked at as different and maybe even as deliquents. 

I worked for a few months at the Department of Criminal Justice Training and, inevitably, when I wore skirts to work I would hear someone saying something about my tattoos.  I was expected to look a certain way, but I didn't fit the mold they wanted.  So I resigned.

Currently I work as a freelancer for my hometown newspaper and I have contact with many high ranking officials in town.  My family has lived here since I was a baby and because it's such a small town living, everyone knows me and my family.  No one descriminates against me because of my tattoos, no one thinks anything of them.  They are just part of who I am.