An old Blog I found from June 2010

Here I am thinking it’s time to tell you about a love affair I had in my 20’s, that lasted quite some time. It went on and evolved over the years, I even tattooed it on my foot. I still have funny glimpses of it even today, especially writing this blog.

You see, I had a massive love affair with pegs. And its funny when you share this story how many others have had the same experience, or they tell you about someone they know who has too. It started back in the late 90’s while living in Adelaide, I was engaged to be married and somehow ‘blue’ pegs became my most favourite part of washing clothes time. I used all the blue ones first, then the white ones and then if I needed more, then it was just on feeling. It was a funny thing to realise once you are fully in love with a peg, it’s a little perplexing but its also comforting knowing that you and this inanimate object have something just between the two of you, you don’t have to share it with anyone. So, happily I went through this time with this happy little relationship.

I then at age 25 decided that I needed a tattoo, I was working in Air Traffic Control at the time and couldn’t have any visible tattoos (I currently have 8, predominately visible). I saw in a mag a celebrity with a tattoo on her foot, this resonated and so I couldn’t think of anything else, so a blue peg was tattooed on my foot one chilly June Saturday afternoon. 

So life went on and each time I hang out the washing, I had my moment with the Blue Peg land. On reflection I wonder if my obsession came from wanting to be in control of the event, the need to make things my way or some combination of that and whatever else was going on at the time. There are theories of OCD going around and some people have it with other things too.

I got married, had a baby and moved to Melbourne. Here the anti was upped it seems. In Melbourne I started colour co-ordinating my pegs with the washing. Red pegs on red clothes, white pegs on white clothes, blue pegs only on blue clothes, 1 red and 1 white peg on pink, I thought I was very clever. I had lots of coloured cloth nappies, it was very entertaining hanging out the washing while co-ordinating in those days.

After moving to Queensland and subsequently separating from my husband, I lived in an apartment and had an internal washing machine and dryer, I also had a clothes horse on the verandah. It was only over time that my relationship with pegs had dwindled to a non-existent stage. I then moved into a house and the pegs came back. But never in any real form did they play a part in my happiness. This was all very interesting to think through realisation what was evident.

I now never use pegs, I own some but don’t use them, I don’t need to, I have an exposed internal laundry where the line is and it get beautiful breezes and gentle early morning sun. There was one time a few years back and this conversation came up at a dinner party and my host was flipping out because she was having a grand love affair with pegs, she had found some clear smooth and very strong pegs in Sweden, of course. She showed me one of these said pegs and I was very overwhelmed at how lovely this peg was, remembering my peg affair and it was a nice little reminder.

Oh and there was that time at the Tupperware party in the depths of suburbia with some Mums from daycare. Well what a can of worms was opened there. Someone saw my tattoo and asked its origin, I went on to explain how it got there and the ensuing years to follow. Well, did the peg stories come out hard and fast, signs of relief that others were not insane and this little secret that they had is not actually weird at all. It’s just one of those things, among many things that we think are weird and really are just stuff that makes us us. It doesn’t define us, it is just one tiny element of a mass pool of stuff.

A couple of months ago a dear friend of mine shared her story after the tattoo question was asked. She has beautiful pegs that she gets from New Zealand, her favourite are the pink and purple ones. She gave me one of her treasured pegs, and I was very very grateful.

So, there you have it, the story about how a young woman got a blue tattooed on her right foot. It just happened and it was perfect and now, it just is. It now is more a thing that creates conversation with people, a little left field that opens up a space of sharing of something personal. I always have hilarious, fun discussions surrounding pegs and the onwards moments that come are truly a part of who I am, just another part that makes up a whole. The journey of my peg affair is one that will always be fondly remembered.

The funny thing in finding and reading this blog from over a year ago is not only the content but how I feel now about the tattoo.

About 4 months ago here in Bali I got asked about the blue peg and shared the above story.  In the weeks after that I felt a sense of completeness to it. I realized it was time, time to transform the peg, after some meditation it came to me, a Phoenix, but of course.  So sometime soon I will do that when the timing is obvious.

I now have 12 tattoos, all small and all very meaningful with a great story attached to them all. Tattoos are funny little journeys.

As Johnny Depp says:  

“My body is a journal in a way. It's like what sailors used to do, where every tattoo meant something, a specific time in your life when you make a mark on yourself, whether you do it yourself with a knife or with a professional tattoo artist.”