The thought hit me on my way to get my stomach tattooed – I’d actually have to expose my stomach when I got there. I started walking slower. My insecurity about my stomach has been a lifelong companion. It began in ballet classes at the tender age of four, with my teacher constantly reminding us to ‘suck in’ to create a ‘nice straight line’ with our movements. Twenty years later, I still find myself taking a deep breath to flatten that little bulge – a movement so ingrained in my subconscious that it feels unnatural to breathe fully. Despite this hang-up, I consider myself incredibly body positive. I maintain a healthy diet, enjoy walking, and regularly attend yoga and pilates classes – not to maintain a ‘good shape,’ but to strengthen my body, feel good within it, and nurture my mental well-being. It’s all self-care, an act of appreciating my health and ensuring its continuation. Yet, despite all this, I can’t shake off my tummy hang-up. I’ve always carried a slight pot belly that protrudes in the middle of my lower stomach. It’s simply where I carry weight. But rationalizing hasn’t helped me overcome it. To conceal it, I’ve long relied on high-waisted silhouettes, loose skirts with elasticated waistbands, and baggy shirts. The look aligns with my boho, flowing style, but as summer approaches, I’m reminded of what I can’t comfortably wear. I haven’t worn jeans or trousers in years – their tight-to-the-tummy silhouettes are a deterrent. My wardrobe is devoid of bodycon and a-line dresses. And bikinis are something I can’t even imagine buying. This year, I wanted that to change. So, late one night, I impulsively booked a stomach tattoo appointment. I’m a relatively heavily tattooed individual, with an array of designs across my arms, legs, fingers, chest, and neck. I adore the look of all this artwork, and if I was body positive before, getting tattoos has intensified my love for the skin I’m in. Could I, therefore, offset my disdain for my tummy by adorning it with a beautiful piece of art? I settled on a dragonfly design simply because they’re cute. Coincidentally, as I researched later, dragonflies symbolize a moment of self-realization or a change in perspective in almost every part of the world. I tried to embody this change of perspective as I arrived at the tattoo studio. I booked with an artist I knew and admired, hoping her sweet and friendly demeanor would help as I undressed in her presence and revealed my tummy to another person for the first time in half a decade. As she placed the stencil on my stomach, I tried not to search for judgment in her eyes but couldn’t help myself. My eyes scanned the rest of the studio, waiting to catch a glare or hear someone comment on my belly. “Is the placement OK?” she asked. I didn’t even look before blurting out, “Yes.” When she finished, relief surged through my veins. Not only was the searing pain over, I could safely tuck my tummy back under my skirt’s waistband. But as I stood to admire the finished tattoo, my breath hitched in my throat, and I allowed myself to truly look at my stomach. It was beautiful. The rounded curve of my belly gives the insect’s stick-thin body, which runs down the center of my stomach, a sense of movement – of being alive. Its wings, spreading out across my body, appear to be mid-flight, and its tiny legs reach up towards my belly button as though wanting to hold it close. I barely managed to hold back my tears. I won’t lie, I still feel tearful whenever I look at my stomach. But I have been looking, which is new. Every morning and night, the dragonfly is lovingly cleaned before I apply moisturizing cocoa butter to it. My eyes linger now, taking in the beauty of the art on my stomach; art that has made me love the canvas it sits on. I’m abrosexual – it took me 30 years to realize Emrhys Cooper: I hit self-destruct over my gay identity but my story has a happy ending I walked into a sex shop to buy toys and left after a threesome with strangers I went to university and immediately realized I wouldn’t get the help I needed Still, have I been flaunting my belly in low-rise jeans and crop tops for the past week? No. But I have sneakily pulled up the hem of my T-shirt to show off my tummy to friends in pub gardens, unconcerned that onlookers might also catch a glimpse. My belly also made its first appearance on Instagram and TikTok, with the tattooist proudly posting photos showcasing the bulge of my belly post-tattoo to display her work. When I saw it, I didn’t panic. I even reposted it for everyone to see. Run clubs have become our new nightclubs – here’s why And if that wasn’t enough, I’ve just ordered my very first bikini. Weather permitting, my stomach is set to see its first rays of sun this summer – and I’m actually looking forward to it. Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. Share your views in the comments below. MORE : The good, the bad and the ugly of cosmetic tourism MORE : What is an abrosexual? Let me explain, as it took me 30 years to realize my identity MORE : I want people to know how hard it is being a British Jew since October 7 Sign up to our guide to what’s on in London, trusted reviews, brilliant offers and competitions. London’s best bits in your inbox By ticking this box, you confirm you are over the age of 18*. Privacy Policy »
From Insecurity to Self-Love: A Tattoo Journey to Embrace My Stomach
