193. Eventually I’m going to have to start exercising or eating less. Maybe both. Losing weight used to be easy.
I really don’t understand the recent fascination with tattoos. Growing up, I never saw that many tattooed people. There were the older men with their “I got this one in the South Pacific” World War II tattoos. I remember few biker types with “MOM” or “LOVE” on their bicep. Every now and then I’d see a random over-weight middle-aged woman with a blob of green skin that used to be a unicorn or a fairy.
They just weren’t that prevalent. Tattoos were restricted to the fringes of society. Actually, barring a burly old veteran here and there, they were confined to the dregs of society. Prisoners, gang-bangers, ex-cons, hookers, sailors, and the occasional middle class man who spent a lost weekend in Tijuana. Tattoos were not common, and they certainly were not socially acceptable.
Slowly over time this began to change. It started with Greek letters tattoos on the ankles of fraternity douchebags around the country. This led to small icons in hidden and/or inconspicuous places: a cross on your shoulder or snoopy on your hip. Then the ladies got involved: a butterfly on the ankle, a dolphin just under the waistband.
Then things went wild. Tribal armband tattoos became the fad. Especially among the gym rat crowd. Chinese characters. Do you really even know what that symbol means? And then came the coup-de-gras of questionable decisions: the back tattoo.
Thanks to the likes of Brittany Spears young women across America decided a large tattoo just above the buttocks was the thing to have. It would, of course drive the men nuts. Especially when hovering just above your bikini on the beach, or when you reach up to get something from the top shelf and it peaks from under your shirt. Personally, I rank this as the #1 “Thing that ruins a hot chick,” followed very closely by a pieced navel.
As a matter of fact, I’d say tattoos in general are a turn off. Angelina Jolie, trashy (sorry Emily). Not (just) because she French kissed her brother. Megan Fox, trashy. She should keep her shirt on. I know this is completely sexist, but women and tattoos do not and should not mix. Period.
Somewhere along the line things went awry. We moved from a society where tattoos were an alienating taboo to a nation of sleeve tattoos (where the entire arm is one continuous tattoo.) What was once confined to the nations penal system has moved into mainstream society.
Which brings me to the worst of the worst: neck tattoos. Nothing says, “I don’t care if I never work again,” like a neck tattoo. Tattoos have moved from the back alleys to hiding under the socks and sleeves of seemingly ordinary people to bare skin in broad daylight.
I ask that we all remember one thing when considering a tattoo. Eventually skin sags. Eventually the ink spreads. What is now a cute little butterfly or a Chinese symbol for peace or a cross or barbed wire will eventually be an amoeba. Inevitably time will take its toll.
I must be completely honest. I have at some point in the past considered a tattoo. I never did it. Mostly because I’m a huge girl and the pain of it scares me to death. I didn’t want to have to explain half of a Tiger or why I had “MOTH” tattooed on my arm.
I know some of you reading this have tattoos (I specifically mentioned a couple I know about) and I don’t mean to insult or belittle you. This is, as always, my opinion. But this is a fad. A fad that I really hope is fading.
Maybe I should just try to capitalize on it. I’m thinking most tattoo recipients have buyer’s remorse at some point. Maybe Bobby and Mandy wasn’t quite forever. Maybe you don’t like Mötörhead as much sober as you did on that Spring Break ’96 drinking binge. Maybe you realized you don’t actually want to wear long-sleeved shirts the rest of your working life. I think I see a business plan here. Non-surgical tattoo removal. White Out for your arm…or back… or neck.
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