Jessica Wilde's Blog - Posts Tagged "jessica-wilde"
Why I Wrote Going Wilde
Early in the process of writing my memoir, I met up with a friend for a drink. When I told her about the book, she said, “ Why would you want to write that? Doesn’t it mean reliving a lot of bad stuff?”
She wasn’t the first or the last person to ask me that question. I get it. A lot of people want their past to be in the past. We move on.
Much as I understand that, I wanted to own my story. When you put yourself out there in the digital world trying to earn a living on social media, so many people create a fiction around who you are. My followers, and lots of other people, project their own perceptions and assumptions onto Jessica Wilde. Those fictions are about their needs and their perceptions. Frankly, I’m fine with them using Jessica as a foil. But telling the truth, capturing the real story of a real woman, became an itch I badly needed to scratch.
Partly, it was the fundamental desire to feel “known.” For so much of my life I’ve been alone and understood that nobody really knew me. There’s this satisfaction when you get deeper into a relationship and the other person discovers layer after layer about you, right down to your deepest corners. I wanted to immortalize that process and that feeling.
Lastly, I wrote this book—as I do everything—for my daughter. I was intent on exploring self-image—what’s healthy and what’s not. My daughter is growing up in a world where online illusions will deeply impact her. I want to give her the tools to navigate that particular environment and come out of it whole.
It’s a lot to ask of one small book, but it was at least worth the honest effort I gave it.
She wasn’t the first or the last person to ask me that question. I get it. A lot of people want their past to be in the past. We move on.
Much as I understand that, I wanted to own my story. When you put yourself out there in the digital world trying to earn a living on social media, so many people create a fiction around who you are. My followers, and lots of other people, project their own perceptions and assumptions onto Jessica Wilde. Those fictions are about their needs and their perceptions. Frankly, I’m fine with them using Jessica as a foil. But telling the truth, capturing the real story of a real woman, became an itch I badly needed to scratch.
Partly, it was the fundamental desire to feel “known.” For so much of my life I’ve been alone and understood that nobody really knew me. There’s this satisfaction when you get deeper into a relationship and the other person discovers layer after layer about you, right down to your deepest corners. I wanted to immortalize that process and that feeling.
Lastly, I wrote this book—as I do everything—for my daughter. I was intent on exploring self-image—what’s healthy and what’s not. My daughter is growing up in a world where online illusions will deeply impact her. I want to give her the tools to navigate that particular environment and come out of it whole.
It’s a lot to ask of one small book, but it was at least worth the honest effort I gave it.
Life as an Illustrated Woman
For such a simple thing, tattoos inspire some heavy duty opinions. I’ve never met anyone who was like, “Meh, I could take ‘em or leave ’em.” Most people pass judgment at first glance. Especially older women I come across in airports and grocery stores. They either sneak peeks full of surreptitious curiosity, or fail to hide their shock and horror at what I’m sure they view as a walking, breathing wall of graffiti. It’s a throwback perception, to when the only inked-up characters were dicey outlaw bikers and violent longshoremen.
Other people find my illustrated bits the height of coolness, as if putting ink on skin somehow makes a person inherently edgy and interesting. I think tattoos endlessly fascinate people because they are a near-permanent commitment, and so many people fear committing to anything.
Truth is, things have changed like they always do. Nowadays? The soccer mom watching her daughter play on some Saturday in suburbia is as likely as not to have a butterfly on her ankle or a rainbow on her shoulder. College kids graduate with degrees in finance and biology, and half sleeves of Japanese koi or scenes from the Simpsons on their backs.
Maybe I was just ahead of the curve. I’ve considered my body a canvas for as long as I can remember. I personalize and decorate my home with art that means something to me and embodies my style. I do the same with my body. I don’t take my tattoos too seriously, but other people sometimes do.
That said, one of the weirdest tattoo experiences I ever went through had nothing to do with judgment. I was at the London Tattoo Convention, greeting fans in a booth. A guy came over to the booth, pulled up his shirt sleeve, and showed me his arm. He had copied my Alice in Wonderland arm sleeve tattoo down to a T. I mean, he really had to study photos of me to get the details right. Aside from just plain creeping me the hell out, he had committed a major tattoo-world faux pas: you never, ever copy someone’s tattoos.
That’s just the one off, though. Most of the time in my day-to-day world, the tattoos fade into the background. They’re no more relevant or attention-grabbing than my hair color or the jeans I’m wearing. Yeah, every once in awhile I step out of the shower, catch myself in the mirror, and think, “Holy fuck, I have a lot of tattoos!” Then I towel off, feed Sophie, and get on with my day. The not-sexy reality? Tattoos decorate your body; they don’t define anyone.
Other people find my illustrated bits the height of coolness, as if putting ink on skin somehow makes a person inherently edgy and interesting. I think tattoos endlessly fascinate people because they are a near-permanent commitment, and so many people fear committing to anything.
Truth is, things have changed like they always do. Nowadays? The soccer mom watching her daughter play on some Saturday in suburbia is as likely as not to have a butterfly on her ankle or a rainbow on her shoulder. College kids graduate with degrees in finance and biology, and half sleeves of Japanese koi or scenes from the Simpsons on their backs.
Maybe I was just ahead of the curve. I’ve considered my body a canvas for as long as I can remember. I personalize and decorate my home with art that means something to me and embodies my style. I do the same with my body. I don’t take my tattoos too seriously, but other people sometimes do.
That said, one of the weirdest tattoo experiences I ever went through had nothing to do with judgment. I was at the London Tattoo Convention, greeting fans in a booth. A guy came over to the booth, pulled up his shirt sleeve, and showed me his arm. He had copied my Alice in Wonderland arm sleeve tattoo down to a T. I mean, he really had to study photos of me to get the details right. Aside from just plain creeping me the hell out, he had committed a major tattoo-world faux pas: you never, ever copy someone’s tattoos.
That’s just the one off, though. Most of the time in my day-to-day world, the tattoos fade into the background. They’re no more relevant or attention-grabbing than my hair color or the jeans I’m wearing. Yeah, every once in awhile I step out of the shower, catch myself in the mirror, and think, “Holy fuck, I have a lot of tattoos!” Then I towel off, feed Sophie, and get on with my day. The not-sexy reality? Tattoos decorate your body; they don’t define anyone.
