I’m not a fan of tattoos. Sorry, but I’m not. And this dislike hasn’t been something that Time has bestowed upon me either. No, my friends, I didn’t like tattoos decades before my boobs started sagging south toward Tierra del Fuego.
As for why I don’t like them, well, I suppose that’s because back when I was a post-pubescent sappling, Hippies were in and all of my contemporaries wanted to be them, so every guy I knew had long hair and so did the chicks. Long, straight hair parted down the middle. I recently looked at my high school yearbook from 1975 and laughed out loud when I saw all these Vidal Sassoon clones. The guys just let their hair grow out in any old way, sans rhyme or reason. Depending on the cut from whcih they grew their hair, their do’s were often mishapen, short in some places and very curly in others. We’re talking extremely patchy spots of hair. kids. It gave some of the guys the appearance of a show groomed Standard Poodle.
The girls were more consciencious about their hair style (or lack thereof in 1975). We trimmed our split ends. And for the maverick short hair girls who spat in the face of long-haired reason, they bought assloads of Short and Sassy Shampoo because that cute Olympic Gold Medalist, Dorothy Hamill (the ice skater) hawked it. But really when you think about it, why bother marketing a shampoo specifically for short hair? Does the shampoo “know” the hair it’s cleaning is short??
My point here is that today’s illustrated people who strive to be different by turning their entire bodies into a tattoo canvas, end up being just like everyone else; just like the Hippies and the wannabes more than four decades ago. I guess you could even take that back further and lump Bobby Socksers, Zoot Suiters, and 1920’s ear Flappers into the mix as well. We as human, have some sociological need to be a part of the whole, as it were. I guess we’re all born with an innate sense of community.
But the difference is, you can always change your clothing style and you can always cut your hair, but a tattoo is forever and when you grow up and realize that that huge pot smoking butterfly that now spans your shoulder blades; the very one that was so hip and cool 18 years earlier, now looks kind of odd when you hand the restaurant cashier your AARP card.
And yes, I know there’s lazer removal and other things that claim to de-art your body, but let’s be honest here, you can remove the color but there’s always a scar.
If you’ve got a tattoo(s), fine. Live and let live. I’m trying very hard not to judge here and you may be (and you might always be) quite content with all your tattoos until the day you die. Bitchin’ for you, but I’ve known several people (mostly women) who pass a certain age find the experience of getting a tattoo most regrettable. So again, this is just my opinion; something that’s only relevant to me and yes, of you must know, I too was a style lemming back in the day. I tried to mock whatever style graced the cover of Ingenue magazine and the way the kid dancers dressed on American Bandstand. And perhaps one could say that by virtue of the purse I carry and the sunglasses I wear, I still am a follower, but the good news is that I will never have to be surgically detached from either.
OK, now that I’ve spilled my thoughts on tattoos, my sister sent me these photos. The guy has an interesting calf tattoo and wanted to give the image more texture, a 3-D like depth and let’s be honest, a pair of 38 DD’s.