I have very little sympathy for the girl who recently had 56 stars tattooed on her face only to regret it after the fact.  But I cry crocodile tears for her mother. 

To say that I make assumptions about people with excessive tattoos would be a fair statement.  I’m not suggesting that my stereotyping is fair but when I see someone who has a sizable portion of their body painted, I assume they are:

  1. Scary
  2. Stupid
  3. Substance dependent
  4. All of the above

For me, getting a large tattoo or a ton of tattoos is like buying an article of clothing that you will wear forever.  You can’t take it off if it goes out of style, or you become weary of it, or someone you love hates it.   Such an irreversible commitment requires a certain level of short sightedness, self-absorption, or … significant balls. 

A question:  Why do you need to forever advertise to the world that you are a “vibrant flower” in Japanese?  You aren’t Japanese and have not ties to Japan.  And what if you decided to become a “sleeping tiger” in French or…uh… just someone who has normal skin?  What then?

I realize that I shouldn’t be so narrow-minded.  My brain just goes there.  I don’t tell it to do that.  And if my tattoo bias isn’t unbecoming enough, I also judge women with tattoos more harshly then men with tattoos.  I am a sexist anti tattoo-ite.

BUT – and this a big BUT, I am okay with small tattoos, i.e. smaller than a band-aid placed somewhere invisible to the world when wearing a classy tank dress.  In this scenario I could actually buy the rationale that the body art is something of deep personal meaning because it is kept private.  I’m still not sure I could ever take the plunge.

Yet, if I was drunk enough forced at gunpoint to get a tattoo, I might get a tiny 62694 on my hip, commemorating something deeply personal — the day 15 years ago when I married Dave.  I think that’s a mark I could commit to.  Happy Anniversary B!  You are the real deal and tattooed in just the right place — on my heart.   

Note to MoB Readers: No, I do not live under a rock, in a cave, or down a deep dark hole.  Yesterday was fairly signifcant as two people who defined our generation left us permanently.  While I was never a huge fan of either Farrah or MJ, it rattled me for this simple reason:  Their death, arguably before their time, reminds us of our own mortality.  But FF will always be young and beautiful in my mind and M.J. got his wish to never grow up.  More on this next week – maybe.  Jennifer may have some thoughts to share.  A safe weekend to all!
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