Chapter 16

"What would you say is the epitome of beauty?" said Shelley, bent over the leg of a young British tourist.

"Uh... Do you need to concentrate? We can always chat later." I was more than a little concerned by the way the muscular business owner waved her needle around as she spoke.

"Nah, love, she's right. Go on, tell me what society reckons is beautiful."

"Generally? Or for females?"

She rolled her ivy eyes. "Don't over think it."

"Okay. I think youth is a big part of beauty, as well as form. We like signs of health, like bronzed skin, white teeth, glowing cheeks, small waists. Add to that long flowing hair for girls and a six-pack for boys and that's about right, I think."

"You'd be bang on – for this generation." Shelley punctuated her words with an extra sharp jab of her client.

He squeaked like an offended guinea pig. "Oi! Careful!"

"Oh, man up." She dismissed his whinging with a whack on his knee. "So, modern society believes that men should look like Nate Norden – rugged, tall, tanned and muscular."

I shivered a little at the mention of the handsome Aussie star. "Right."

"But, look at the past, even a few years back, to when aristocratic men wore high heels and being dainty was seen as attractive. And our women should look like bronzed Barbies, yeah? Not so long ago, society deemed it unfashionable for the upper class to be tanned and slender, because those qualities reflected common workers, who spent all day in the fields without enough to eat. If you wanted to be considered beautiful, you needed to appear Rubenesque and pasty.

"And speaking of white, from Ancient Greek times through to the twenties, people would slather themselves in lead paint, just so they could appear white skinned and pristine. Never mind that the lead would actually end up killing you, while giving you brain damage, anaemia and paralysis along the way.

"And some of this crazy skin-whitening still goes on! A mate from Zimbabwe told me the girls where she's from still use skin bleaching creams. Thank God for women like Lupita Nyong'o, showing that beauty doesn't have a set skin colour."

I studied the compact woman as she educated me. With her close cropped hair and thickly roping muscles, she wasn't exactly a feminine character. But there was something about her intricate tatts and bright eyes that made her fiercely attractive.

"It's not just skin. Take facial hair - it used to be all the rage in ancient Rome and Greece for the ladies to sport terrific unibrows, and if they couldn't grow a bushy one, they'd supplement with goat hair stuck on with resin. Or what about teeth? In the Japanese Heian period, black teeth were all the rage for the aristocracy. And China! Foot binding! They would literally mangle young girls' feet to the point they couldn't walk, because small feet were considered beautiful – finding a good marriage could depend on your foot size."

"Are we nearly done?" whimpered the Brit.

"No! Shut your yap, please. Even in the last fifty years, look at the difference between Marilyn and Twiggy! Beauty shifts – it literally is in the eye of the beholder. Now, the trick is to find the beautiful in everyone, even whinging Poms like my mate here."

"Whoa, steady on!"

"You had it coming," said Shelly, wiping the excess ink off his ankle. "All done, sunshine!"

The badly sunburned lad leaned forward, grinning in approval. "Brilliant!"

I scrunched up my nose at the small tatt, which was a picture of a mooning SpongeBob SquarePants with a beer in each hand. Each to their own.

Shelley shook her hand and said, "On your way. Pay Frog at the front counter."

As she began to clean up her gear, I asked, "So, how exactly do you find beauty in everyone, when society hardwires us to think that only certain characteristics are attractive?"

"First of all, start recognising that the media portrayal of beauty is total bullshit. Do you know how much air brushing goes into every magazine cover? Or the crazy unhealthy diets celebrities follow, just to stay on trend? We idolise people who are genetically gifted, like Heidi Klum, or are products, like Kim Kardashian, and put ourselves down because we don't match up. But we never could – and we don't have to!"

"It's still hard," I said quietly.

"Of course it is, love. But you yourself are a great role model, you know that, right?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you!" She swatted me on the rump as we stood up. "You're a beautiful, curvy woman, on TV every day, showing the world that we don't all have to look like that weather girl of yours."

"I'm not sure I'm a role model for anybody," I said. "I'm still coming to terms with beauty standards."

"It's all about practicing awareness, observation, non-judgement. Like, take Frog for example." She indicated the other tattoo artist, ringing up sales at the front counter. He was an unusual character, with glowing green lizard contacts and a tongue that had been deliberately split at the very tip. He bore dozens of tatts all over his slight frame, and his head was shaved on one side. He wasn't exactly a picture of traditional beauty.

Shelley went on. "I find Frog beautiful. Firstly, because he's one of the best blokes I've ever met - his insides are truly lovely. But there's beauty when you look at him too. His body is a work of unconventional art, showing dedication to his appearance. There's beauty in the way he carries himself, in his smile, his skilled hands."

I stared, trying to find the truth in her words. As I gazed at Frog's back, I thought I caught a glimpse of Shelley's wisdom. In just understanding the many hours he'd spent to appear the way he did, I could understand the beauty there.

Shelley let me shadow her for the rest of the day, lecturing in her own distinct way about beauty. And with every customer who came through the door, I found myself analysing them as individuals, as unique and special and different, and the beauty began to peep its way through.

Weirdly, it was mentally exhausting. At six, Shelley sent me off. "Go on, go shower, eat something. See you tomorrow."

"Would you like to come for dinner with Heather and me?"

"Nah, love. We'll be here until midnight, Frog and me. There'll be a busy bit around ten, when all the drunk backpackers come racing in for a permanent souvenir of an Aussie flag or a kangaroo. Maybe another night, yeah?"

I waved them off and caught a cab back to the Bali House, the waterfront mansion we were calling home for the week. Having only seen the inside of the garage, I was blown away as I ascended the stairs and entered a world of tropical luxury.

"Oh, wow." The lofty ceilings were lined with pale wood, matching the bamboo flooring. Everywhere, plush cane furniture was angled to take in the magnificent views of the marina and the Indian Ocean beyond that.

Heather greeted me happily from the open plan kitchen. "I know, right? Isn't it amazing? I've cut up vegie sticks and made some hommos for a late snack, but I thought we might barbeque some salmon on the balcony and eat here for dinner."

"That sounds like about ten different kinds of wonderful." I scooped Heather's dip into my mouth with a floret of cauliflower and moaned in appreciation. "That's it, you and I are getting married."

"I think my girlfriend and the Australian government might have something to say about that," she giggled. "Speaking of which, I need to call and check in with Andie."

"Cool. I'm going to shower, then help you with dinner."

"You should probably check your emails too; your computer has been dinging non-stop today."

I paused, mid-bite. "You know what? I really need a break from the world this week. Can you email Robbo for me and tell him I'm going off-line? I haven't even turned my phone back on since we landed, and I haven't missed it. If anyone needs me, they can go through you."

"Going off the grid? You rebel, you." Heather grinned in approval. "Sure, I'll let Robbo know. What about Matt?"

Screwing up my face, I said, "I need a break from all that, I think. I'm trying to reset who I am and how I function. I need to think about me, rather than about Matt and me."

"Okay, I'll screen for you. Just your parents and emergencies from Robbo. Done."

"Thanks, love," I said, adopting a Shelley-like accent.

The bathroom was a paradise, a pale wood and mirrored room of perfection. The white wooden shutters were slanted open, allowing a perfect view of the palm fronds and azure waters while I showered, and although I was meant to be challenging my ideas of traditional beauty, there was something about the ocean that would always be aesthetically appealing to me.

To push myself, I decided to do something brave before I dressed: look at my naked reflection. Normally, I showered with the lights dimmed, wrapping a towel around myself before the steam could clear, and exiting as soon as possible.

Taking a deep breath, I turned off the water, opened the glass door and beheld myself in the mirror.

"Oh. Okay." It was truly confronting, but in a not-entirely-unpleasant way. Carefully, I took stock.

My milky skin glowed under the bathroom lights, appearing alabaster and smooth. My stomach was definitely flatter, but nowhere near flat. I turned sideways, tracing the rounded line down to my strong legs. My hips bulged out in mad curves, and there were dimples patterned across my thighs, but it didn't seem to ruin the image; rather, it completed me, the little flaw in the painting that made it unique.

I'm not hideous. It was startling for me to realise it. I could stare at my blushing breasts and be proud of how womanly they were. I liked the way my booty swelled out, and the way my freshly washed hair cascaded down my back in chocolate waves. My posture was tall and proud, as if I'd grown inches over the last few weeks. I wasn't in love with my body, but I was proud of it. It was mine.

Dressing in a floaty white dress with blue swirls, I felt something inside my soul settle. I think... I think I'm actually happy.

I rushed to the kitchen to share my new-found revelation with Heather, only to find her standing on the balcony, conducting a hushed conversation on her phone. "Yes, baby... I know, but... Look, I'll be home on Friday night. No, I won't. I'm really getting somewhere and... Okay. Fine, talk about it on the weekend. I love you too. Bye."

"Everything okay?" I called out, trying to not make it seems as though I was deliberately invading her privacy.

She walked back into the house, her smile a little shaky. "All good. Andie just misses me, that's all. Women, hey? Whaddaya do?"

I laughed at her manly tone. "I'll take your word for it. I got 99 problems..."

***

Perhaps it was the all-pervading heat of the Northern Territory, or having my phone and laptop off, or my new found ability to see beauty in every corner of the world, but the week passed in a pleasant haze. Heather and I ate meals on our balcony overlooking the water and went for long walks in the mornings, discussing everything from our early childhoods to our opinions on alternative medicine.

I spent my days with Shelley and Frog, allowing the taunt little woman to educate and reprogram me, until I reached the stage where I could truly appreciate the divine beauty in someone's clear eyes or beautiful hands or strange piercings, regardless of their waistline. I was in a bubble of new discovery, and I never wanted it to pop.

On Thursday, the crew arrived, and I felt unreasonably annoyance at their presence. I filmed my report as fast as possible, wanting to get them out of there so Shelley and I could get back to training; she'd promised me by Friday, she'd let me hold the needle and do a simple tatt on actual skin.

"Thanks, guys!" I said, waving them off.

The producer approached me. "Uh, Evi? I have a call for you."

He extended a phone to me, and I shied away, as if it were an unexpected penis on public transport. "I'm not taking calls this week."

"It's Taylor. She's pretty insistent."

Exasperated, I took the phone and waved the producer off. "Hello, Taylor."

"Evi! Hi!" Her perky voice was back in full force, blasting in my ear like a barrage of Hello Kitty pencil toppers. "I've been trying to call you and email you!"

"What do you need, Taylor?"

"So, I was chasing the number of that surgeon you told me about?"

"You know, we have those details on record. You could have looked them up."

"I know, but I really wanted to know if you would recommend him, like if you'd use him personally, if you were ready to get work done. And I wanted to know if you are going to use him one day, because if he's that good, you'll use him, right? Because I hear that the recovery time from liposuction is only a few days-"

"Yes, Taylor, he is that good. No, I'm not going to get any work done. I'm actually pretty happy with how I look."

She gushed. "Oh! Good for you! That's so amazing that a big girl like yourself can feel comfortable with how she looks. Especially now you've lost a bit of weight, because it would have been harder for you to feel good before, right?"

Breathing in through my nose, I turned to face on of the shop walls, covered in tatt designs. Focusing on a yin-yang symbol, I said, "Taylor, can you tell me something? You always try to be positive when you're talking to others, right?"

"Oh my god, I really do! It's so important-"

"Great. So, I actually think that when you say things to me, you're trying to be complimentary."

"Of course! I was telling you you've lost weight and you're amazing!"

"But that's not how it comes across." Drawing on all my patience, I pressed my fingers to my temple. "You called me a big girl, which is pretty offensive, then implied that I couldn't have been happy with a few extra kilos on, as if losing weight was the only factor in my body acceptance."

"But... I just meant... Oh." Her little voice grew sad.

"So, why don't we try again? Tell me that you're happy I'm comfortable in my skin."

"Okay. Evi, I think it's great that someone like you-"

"Bzzz! Try again. Evi, I think you..."

"Evi, I think you... are amazing... and you should feel happy with, with how you look, because you look great."

"Yay! You got there!" I was genuinely pleased Taylor had managed an actual compliment for once, even if it was spoon-fed.

"Oh, gosh. I didn't realise... Okay, I'm going to totally try harder to make my words more positive! Will you help me, Evi?"

Correct Taylor every time she said something accidentally bitchy? Might be a full-time job on its own. "Sure."

"Great! I'm going to fly up to the Gold Coast on Friday and try to see this guy. Maybe Matt will come with me? I really need his support, and he could use a mini-break; he's been so quiet all week. I think my news really affected him, you know?"

"I'll bet it did. Taylor, I have to go now."

"Okay, but just-"

I hung up, fingers shaking. Every time I thought I was doing fine, something tried to sneak up and bite me. The image of Matt quietly haunting Taylor's steps around the studio and following her up to Queensland for a romantic/medical holiday was too much. I buried my face in my hands, taking one self-indulgent second.

"What's wrong with you, hey?" Shelley stomped over and joined me by the wall. "Bad news?"

"Not really. Just trying not to compare myself to an impossible standard, that's all."

She elbowed me. "Comparison is human. We love to judge."

Rather than reply, I let my gaze drift over the hundreds of photos and sketches on the wall. "Who's that?" I asked, pointing out a picture of a very large woman. It caught my eye, because unlike everything else taped up there, the photo didn't have a single tatt to be seen.

"Don't you recognise her? That's me, love!" Shelley spoke with nonchalance.

"What?" I flicked my head back and forth, trying to assimilate the two women. The one on the wall was at least twice as heavy, an ordinary looking lady with mousey hair. The one beside me way tattooed, strong and vibrant. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, I know, a bit of a trip, right? That was me ten years ago. I'd been in a horror relationship, and I started eating to feel better, and didn't stop until I was so sick, one doc told me that I wouldn't last till I was fifty."

She smiled, her expression bitter-sweet. "It wasn't about getting pretty; it was about saving me own life. I ditched the guy, moved up here, started eating right, started walking, then running, then pushing some weights. I liked how it made me feel on the inside, mostly. Having that strength was bloody unreal, and I haven't lost it since.

"I got a tatt to celebrate when I lost fifty kilos, and another tatt for every ten after that. I got addicted to ink – that happens, you know? People get one, then they get ten in a row. Anyway, I'd been a graphic designer in me old life, so I learned from the guy who used to own this place, then bought it off him when he retired."

"That's incredible!" I wanted to ask more about her weight loss, but I had a more important question. "What's your favourite tatt?"

"This one, far and away." She pointed to the swirling script on her forearm that read, 'Every day.'

"Why?"

"Because, it's a reminder to me that life is made up of little moments, one day at a time. It's our everyday choices that make up our existence. Every day, do I eat right or eat crap? Do I work out or stay in bed? Do I honour myself or fall backwards? We need to show the people around us that we love them every day. We need to show ourselves love every day. Be grateful, be active, be happy, every day."

"Every day..." It was so simple and so eloquent, I felt hot tears arise. "You're awesome, Shelley."

"I know, love, I know." She grinned. "And so are you."

The door clanged behind us, and a man in an elegant suit entered the shop. "Hello? Is there a sexy tattooed woman in here? One I might be married to?"

"Over here, you git!" called Shelley, rushing to embrace the clean-cut man with gusto. "Evi, this is my husband, Eddie. He manages the bank down the street."

"Pleased to meet you." I shook his hand, shell-shocked. They couldn't have been more polar-opposite, but the love flowing between them was evident.

"Likewise, Ms Moore." He kissed Shelley on the nose. "Can I take you out quickly for dinner?"

"Maybe. Or how about a quicky first, then dinner?"

"Oh, you are a saucy wench, aren't you?"

They giggled and bantered together, the suited banker and his tattooed bride, beautifully mismatched. I could only stare and smile, loving the fact that in a judgemental world, opposites could still truly attract.

***

I walked back to the Bali House with a lot on my mind. "Heather..."

"Yes...?"

"I want you to give you a present."

"Ooo! I love presents! Gimme!"

"We've got this house until Sunday. I want to fly Andie up here tomorrow so you guys can have a little break together. My treat."

She put down her glass of lemon water. "Oh, Evi! You don't have to do that!"

"I want to. You've helped me so much, and I know it's put a strain on your relationship. Please, let me do this."

We hugged as she accepted. "That would be amazing! Oh my God, I can't wait to tell her! We'll go out to Kakadu and see crocodiles and wear bikinis!"

"Sounds awesome," I smiled, happy to see her happy."

"What about you? What are you going to do this weekend?"

"Don't worry about me," I said, feeling my own excitement building as an idea coalesced. "I've got my own special plans."

Okay!  Guesses taken on Evi's plans!  Do we think Tayor can learn how to be a nice person?  Have you ever taken yourself 'offline' before?  Do you like Shelley's views on beauty and pursuing better every day?

This is a growth chapter for Evi - don't worry, there are some romantic chapters on the way, but again, if you're looking for hard-core erotica, you are reading the wrong book :)  I truly want Evi's story to ring true and be about her love for herself.  Love with a man comes second.

I hope you'll take a moment to vote!  Thanks so much to everyone who has shared this book with others or taken the time to comment.  Love you guys, every day :)  xxoo Kate