Older generations used to warn that people shouldn’t get tattoos because they’re permanent and someone may one day regret getting them. However, these days tattoo removal is an option. Although painful, it works after a few sessions but can leave behind some scarring. Either way, 35-year-old Leandro De Souza has decided to undergo laser treatments to remove almost 2 decades worth of ink.
Leandro De Souza is a native of Brazil and a proud father. However, his divorce almost a decade ago proved to be almost more than he could handle. As a result, De Souza went down a path of partying. During this time he accumulated more than 170 tattoos but his first ink was at just 13 years old. “I did the first one when I was 13,” De Souza explained. “The first ones were very much about the idolatry of the time.” However, he’s recently set out on a religious path of Evangelicalism. As a result, he’s decided to undergo the laser tattoo removal process.
Facing Heartbreak
Leandro’s first tattoos were inspired by his favorite bands, such as Nirvana, Guns N’ Roses, and Metallica. However, the majority of his tattoos were from a decade-long binge following his divorce. During that time, Leandro admittedly experimented with drugs like LSD, alcohol, and ecstasy.
Finding Motivation for Tattoo Removal
“I couldn’t stand the life I was living anymore. I was an attraction at (events I attended) and it felt like a circus animal.” He said regarding his decision for tattoo removal. De Souza was visiting a shelter almost a decade after his difficult divorce. This visit would change the course of his life. “The first step in everything in life is to accept that you can’t do it alone, that you are an addict, that you are a drug addict,” de Souza said. “And I managed to do that, I entered the municipal shelter in Bagé. Within a week, there was a lady who referred me and started to evangelize me.“
Turning a New Leaf
It’s been 2 years since De Souza changed his life and opted for tattoo removal. However, it’s a long process that will be more so for De Souza’s 170 tattoos. Moreover, he now spends his time speaking with “parents and children in homes that are in prisons.”
Leandro began the tattoo removal process with the help of a tattoo studio in Franco da Rocha, São Paulo, which heard about the exciting changes Leandro was making to turn his life around. He’s now been clean from alcohol for 3 years, and free of tobacco and other substances for a year. De Souza still has 6 more tattoo removal sessions before his ink is gone and his transformation, so far, is astonishing and awe-inspiring.
Tattoo Removal is a Modern Possibility
For many, getting a tattoo is inspired by the desire to express one’s creativity, treating their body like a canvas. However, others may regret their ink choices as they mature or their interests and relationship status change. Fortunately, tattoo removal is possible with advancing technology but there are a few side effects like tenderness, skin irritability, and even scarring.
Tattoo Removal Methods
Interestingly, tattoo removal comes with options. De Souza’s treatment, laser tattoo removal, uses lasers to “heat the ink particles,” breaking them down and making it “easier for your immune system to remove,” according to Cleveland Clinic. Laser tattoo removal sessions are scheduled about 3 months apart and can last anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour depending on the size of the ink. This method does come with side effects that range from mild skin irritation to painful blisters, but each person responds differently to treatment.
Skin Removal for Tattoo Removal
Another option for tattoo removal is surgical excision. The medical procedure requires a surgeon, who will “cut out the skin that contains a tattoo.” Then they will “stitch your remaining skin together.” The procedure probably sounds intimidating but it’s only used for small tattoos, as cutting an entire back tattoo and then stitching it up would be unpleasant, dangerous, and seemingly impossible.
Meanwhile, dermabrasion and chemical peels are used to remove the outer layers of skin. Unfortunately, both can cause severe skin sensitivity, especially in sunlight. Therefore, understanding the risks and how to treat the skin properly as it heals is essential to your skin’s health and physical comfort.
Not Recommended by Professionals
Lastly, and possibly least popular and effective, are tattoo removal creams. They can be used at home and often take months or years to yield results. Furthermore, they contain acids that “irritate or damage your skin.” As such, they’re usually advised against by medical professionals.
Can Anyone Get Tattoo Removal
In short, yes. However, some things are worth noting when considering tattoo removal. Firstly, tattoo removal takes time and similar or repetitive steps to be effective, regardless of your chosen tattoo removal method. The reason for this is that a tattoo artist applies ink in layers of the skin, so layers have to be broken down which can’t happen in one sitting, otherwise you’ll suffer severe and irreversible skin damage. Ultimately, that would put your overall health and immunity at risk. Additionally, your skin needs time between sessions to “flush out the ink” so, it’s recommended to wait a few weeks or months between most tattoo removal options listed above.
Secondly, certain ink colors are easier to remove than others. For example, blue and black are easy to remove during laser tattoo removal because “they’re better at absorbing light.” Meanwhile, colors like red are difficult to remove because their “molecular composition” is more resistant to the treatment options.
An Alternative
Consider having them turned into something else, rather than removed. For instance, if you’re considering tattoo removal and the reason has nothing to do with necessity, for work, or because, like De Souza, you’re on a new path. Instead, you don’t like how it looks anymore, have separated from the person who inspired the tattoo, or have other interests. In this case, you might consider another visit to the tattoo shop to have them create something else by covering the existing tattoo. For many, this option may be more satisfying and less time-consuming.
My Millionaire Father Left Me Homeless Until I Discovered Something Worth More Than Money
My father and I were standing beside his brand-new car, admiring the sleek black paint and shiny chrome details. I was already thinking about when I could take it out for a spin.
Suddenly, a homeless man shuffled over. His ragged appearance seemed out of place next to us as he stopped a few feet away.
“Excuse me, sir. I don’t mean to bother you, but… if you have any work, I’d be glad to earn a few dollars. I can wash the car or… clean your shoes.”
I looked at him, repulsed by his appearance.
“No, thanks,” I snapped. “I don’t want you touching my stuff with those dirty hands.”
The man didn’t respond. He didn’t argue or make a scene. He just gave a small nod and walked away, disappearing into the city crowd like he was used to hearing that kind of response.
I felt a strange satisfaction as if I’d defended my world. My father had been quiet the entire time. Later that evening, though, he called me into his study, his face unusually serious.
“Declan,” he started, “I’ve watched you live your life without any understanding of what’s really important.”
I frowned, not knowing where this was going.
He continued, “That man today… you treated him like he was less than human. That attitude is going to destroy you. You think money makes you better, but it’s the one thing that can ruin you.”
I tried to interrupt, but he raised his hand.
“From now on, you’re not getting another dollar from me until you learn to be a decent person. No money, no inheritance, nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“I mean, you’re going to earn everything on your own. I’m giving you these clothes from the second-hand store, and that’s it. You need to learn the value of money, Declan.”
That wasn’t just talk. I found my accounts frozen. No more luxury, no more easy life. I was left with nothing and no way out.
The first days on the street were nothing short of humiliating. One minute, I was surrounded by luxury, and the next, I was searching for a spot to escape the cold.
The reality of it all hit me harder with each passing day. I always thought it could never happen to me. Yet there I was, shivering under a bridge, wishing for even a fraction of what I once had.
My mind kept drifting back to Layla. I had promised her a night out somewhere elegant and expensive, a place worthy of her beauty.
But now, what will she think if she sees me like this?
I wore ragged clothes, had unwashed hair, and had no money in my pockets. The thought of showing up in this state was unbearable. On the second day under the bridge, I heard a voice.
“Hey, are you alright?”
A young woman was standing in front of me.
“You look like you could use some help,” she said, offering me a hand.
I hesitated for a second, ashamed of what I had become. But I had no choice.
“I’m a volunteer at a shelter nearby,” she said. “It’s not fancy, but it’s warm, and we can get you cleaned up and something to eat.”
She led me down a few streets until we reached a modest house. The furniture was worn, but it didn’t matter. After spending nights under the open sky, it felt like a palace.
Mia motioned me to sit.
“Here, let me get you something to drink,” she said as she handed me a cup of hot tea. “This place isn’t much, but we try to make it comfortable for everyone who comes through.”
I looked around. “Why are you helping me?”
“It’s my job to help. But more than that, I know life can turn upside down in the blink of an eye. I’ve seen people from all walks of life come through here. You’re not alone in this.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected. I nodded, grateful for the first bit of kindness I had felt in days.
Later, Mia brought me clean clothes and showed me how to clean up.
“I know things seem bad now,” she said as I combed my hair in the mirror, “but you can get through this.”
Her kindness gave me hope.
The next day, Mia helped me prepare for a job interview at a local restaurant.
“It’s not glamorous, but it’s a start.”
I knew she was right. I had to start somewhere. The interview was short, and I began my duties immediately.
I started doing the dirtiest work: taking out the trash, mopping floors, washing dishes. It was tough, but I kept reminding myself that I had to earn enough to stay at a motel and buy decent clothes for the date.
Each day was hard, but with Mia’s support, I started to believe I could face whatever came next.
A week of hard work passed, and it felt like the longest week of my life. Every day at the restaurant was a struggle. My hands, once soft and unblemished, were now calloused from mopping floors and scrubbing grease off dirty dishes.
It seemed like everything was working against me. Plates always slipped from my grasp, buckets of water splashed over my shoes. Each time something went wrong, the manager was quick to pounce.
“Declan, can’t you do anything right?” he barked one afternoon as I fumbled with a tray of dirty dishes. “This isn’t a playground. You mess up again, and you’re out!”
I could feel the stares of the other employees burning into my back, but I just nodded, biting my tongue. My pride had already taken enough hits.
Outside, as I walked home from work, I heard kids running down the street, laughing loudly.
“Look at him!” one of them shouted, pointing at me. “He can’t even walk straight!”
They giggled as I stumbled, my feet dragging from exhaustion.
When I’d finally make it back to the shelter, I’d go straight to the shower. Every night, I collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even think, only to wake up and do it all over again the next day.
By the end of the week, payday came, and I eagerly opened the small envelope, hoping it would be enough to keep me going. But inside were only a few crumpled bills.
“That’s it?” I muttered, stunned.
The restaurant owner looked at me coldly.
“You’re homeless. And you’re an awful worker. Be glad I gave you anything at all.”
At that moment, I saw myself in the homeless man I had once insulted. I finally understood what it felt like to be treated as if you didn’t matter.
Despite everything I had been through, I decided to go on that long-promised date with Layla. I hoped she would see me for more than the wealth and status I used to flaunt.
I arrived at the café, my palms sweating. Layla walked in, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor. She was just as stunning as ever. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe.
“Declan,” she sighed, “I thought you’d at least show up in a decent suit. What happened to the car? I expected dinner at that fancy place downtown, not… this.”
She gestured around at the modest café, her voice dripping with frustration.
“I’m sorry, Layla. Things have changed for me. I don’t have the money I used to, but I thought maybe we could still…”
She cut me off, shaking her head.
“I’m not here to help you rebuild yourself, Declan. If you can’t offer me the life I deserve, then what’s the point?”
Her words were like a slap in the face, but they were also the truth I needed to hear. Layla wasn’t the woman I thought she was. She was just a reflection of my old shallow life built on appearances and material things.
After she left, I sat there for a few minutes, processing it all. In my old world, I would have been crushed, but now, I no longer needed to chase after someone who only valued me for money.
With the little money I had earned, I bought a box of pastries from a local bakery. As I walked through the park, I spotted the homeless man I had insulted weeks ago. I handed him the box.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “For how I treated you before. You didn’t deserve that.”
“We all have bad days,” he said simply, accepting the pastries.
His words lifted a bit of a weight off my shoulders. Then, with the last bit of cash I had, I bought a big bouquet of roses and headed to the shelter.
Mia was there, as always, helping others with a warm smile on her face. I handed her the flowers.
“Thank you, Mia. For everything. I don’t know where I’d be without your help. I was wondering… would you like to go for coffee with me sometime?”
Mia’s eyes lit up. “I’d love that, Declan.”
At that moment, I realized something I hadn’t understood before. Life isn’t about money or status, or how you look to others. It’s about the people who lift you up, who see you for who you really are, and help you become better.
My father appeared later that evening and admitted he had been watching me all along.
“I’m proud of you, son,” he said quietly. “Let’s go home.”
And for the first time, I felt like I had earned it.
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