For most people, tattoos are a form of self-expression — a memory etched in ink, a symbol of freedom, rebellion, or meaning. For Ethan “ModBoy” Bramble, tattoos became something far greater — and far heavier. At just 24, the Australian father had transformed nearly every inch of his body into a canvas. What began as fascination became an obsession, and later, a burden he is now trying to undo.

Ethan’s story started long before the first tattoo gun ever touched his skin. He was only eleven when he took his first step into body modification, stretching his earlobes in a small act of rebellion that he didn’t yet understand. “It just felt like something I needed to do,” he’s said. But once the door opened, it never closed. Over the next decade, his modifications grew more extreme — split tongue, removed belly button, implants, and tattoos covering almost every visible surface of his skin.

By his early twenties, Ethan had spent over $60,000 AUD — roughly $39,000 USD — altering his appearance. He became known online as “ModBoy,” a living art piece that fascinated some and unsettled others. His face, in particular, drew attention: heavily inked, filled, and transformed into something unrecognizable from the child he once was. But behind the striking appearance, something else was building — unease, anxiety, and regret.

Ethan’s turning point came quietly, not in a burst of revelation but in small, painful realizations that accumulated over time. Appearing on LadBibleTV’s No Filter series, he admitted, “I guess you could say I regret some tattoos. Not just regret — I think there’s a difference between regret and wanting to be perceived differently.”

That difference, he explained, was subtle but crucial. He didn’t hate his tattoos, nor did he despise who he had been. What troubled him was how the world saw him — how judgmental eyes followed him everywhere, how people whispered, and how strangers made assumptions before he could even speak. The face that once felt like a statement now felt like a wall.

The moment that hit hardest came when he became a father. He began noticing the way people stared when he was out with his daughter — not with admiration, but discomfort. “The face is a big thing,” he said, “and for some people — not everyone — it can lead to a lot of problems. I probably wouldn’t want my daughter to have to deal with that until she was older.”

He paused, and then came the sentence that said everything: “I wish that I had not gone as hectic as I did on my face.”

It wasn’t about vanity. It was about empathy — realizing that his daughter would grow up watching people judge her father before knowing him. The thought gnawed at him. For the first time, Ethan wanted to change, not out of shame but out of love.

So he began the long, painful process of laser tattoo removal.

Over the past year, Ethan has been undergoing laser sessions regularly, focusing mostly on his face. “We do it in sections,” he said, “but I’ve probably gone over the full thing six or seven times.” It’s an excruciating procedure, both physically and emotionally. Every flash of the laser brings a mix of pain, hope, and a strange kind of grief — erasing not just the ink, but the identity he once embraced.

He explained that the decision wasn’t only about appearance. It was about mental health. “I started getting it done because of the anxiety and stuff I was getting,” he said. “Mental stuff is a funny thing to pin down, but I want to think that a lot of the anxiety was from just having a face full of tattoos.”

For years, his heavily modified look had been both armor and isolation. The tattoos gave him power when he was younger — a sense of control, a way to stand out, maybe even a way to hide. But as he grew older, they began to feel like a prison. People didn’t see Ethan anymore; they saw “ModBoy,” a label that followed him into every room and every first impression.

“I’m happy with the way I look,” he admitted, “but I’m also happy with the mentality that over the next two years, my face tattoos are going to become less and less. I’m just clearing the canvas.”

That phrase — clearing the canvas — has become a kind of personal mantra. It’s not about erasing who he was. It’s about giving himself permission to evolve.

Body modification, in its essence, is about transformation. For Ethan, the act of removing tattoos is just another transformation — this time, one that goes inward as much as outward. “It’s funny,” he once remarked, “because I spent all these years trying to change my outside, but the biggest change happened inside me.”

Ethan’s journey is more than a story about tattoos. It’s about how easily self-expression can become self-erasure when taken to extremes. It’s about learning that identity isn’t fixed in ink — it shifts, grows, and sometimes outgrows the marks we make.

The online reactions to his transformation have been mixed. Some see his choice as inspiring — a man owning his past while taking charge of his future. Others are less kind, accusing him of hypocrisy or weakness. Ethan doesn’t bother arguing with them. “People are going to say what they want,” he said. “I did what I did. I can’t undo it, but I can move forward differently.”

He knows the road ahead will be slow. Laser removal doesn’t promise perfection; some of the ink will remain forever. But that’s okay with him. “I’m not trying to be spotless,” he said. “I’m just trying to be comfortable again — in my skin and in my mind.”

What stands out about Ethan’s story isn’t the tattoos or the regret — it’s the courage to change direction. Many people double down on their choices, defending them out of pride or fear. Ethan chose honesty instead. He admitted to feeling lost. He admitted to being afraid. And he admitted that he wanted to be seen for who he really was, not the mask he’d built over time.

It’s a reminder that self-expression can be beautiful, but it can also become a trap if we forget why we began. The line between confidence and concealment is thinner than we think.

Today, Ethan is still in the process of transformation — physically, mentally, and emotionally. His skin tells the story of both who he was and who he’s becoming. Each faded tattoo is a step back toward something simpler, softer, and more authentic.

He’s a father now, and that role has reshaped everything. His daughter doesn’t care about his tattoos or the comments from strangers — to her, he’s just Dad. That, more than anything, is what drives him to keep clearing the canvas.

“I’m happy,” he said, “because I’m not hiding anymore. This is just another part of me — another layer I’m learning to live with.”

Maybe that’s what transformation really means: not the act of becoming someone else, but the act of coming home to yourself, one layer at a time.