On Tattoos

June 26, 2019

So the bridesmaid parade began – seven or eight young women in misty watercolor blue, each exemplifying the beauty and hope associated with such a happy event – except for the one thing they each failed to conceal: the litany of tattoos on every shoulder, arm or back. 

In 1980, home for Christmas and ebullient after surviving my first semester away from home at college, Mom greeted me with the question of how could I “mutilate” myself — upon spying the second piercing in each ear. 

I’d like to think that I am more broad-minded than my mother.  I’d like to think that I am more sympathetic regarding the drive and need for self-expression.  So, for a long time, I have rolled with the tattoo wave, remaining largely neutral and cautiously enthusiastic when friends revealed their forays into self-decoration.

But then tattoos mushroomed – not the number of people participating, but the density, intensity and proliferation of ink. People did sleeves, legs, trunks and torsos. No square inch of skin escaped that ubiquitous blue demarcation: the body and face were the new blank canvas.

Now, if you’re over the age of 35 (the true age of reason), and decide to engrave yourself with an ode to your favorite, recently departed pet, then more power to you.

But if you are under 35, for the love of goodness, why do you want to despoil the beauty that only youth enjoys?  You have your whole life to make gross errors in judgement… why make this one?  Why mark yourself permanently with the immature passions and enthusiasms that may be irrelevant in ten years?  Why not celebrate the skin you were born with, bumper-sticker free?

Have I ever considered getting a tattoo?  Of course I have – but ultimately I decided I was better off in my own skin, as damaged by sun as it already was.  I am also free of having to provide any awkward explanations…

When the singer, Adam Levine, recently chose to reveal the blue roadmap that used to be his body to a world-wide audience at the 2019 Super Bowl, my liver actually cringed at the prospect of his future hepatitis. 

In the end, all that ink does nothing to enhance your youth or the beauty you were born with.  If anything, it unnecessarily distracts and detracts – inviting unwanted attention and comment as it did for my niece when a creepy guy on this bus decided to share his thoughts on her bodywork.

So do yourself a favor: WAIT.  And think calm thoughts until the compulsion loses its fire.  If necessary, go for a run, do chores or take a nap.  You will only thank yourself later.