Up front: I’m musing here. I don’t think tattoos are an important matter of morality, or life and death.
However, I do find myself staring quizzically in moments. Take the lady I saw yesterday, who had a small ice cream cone with a heart next to it, tattoed on her leg. It was a cute small icon, just perfect if you worked at Hallmark and were designing a “Hope you beat the heat” card for someone who lives without AC. But as a permanent addition to your skin? Forever and ever?
I recall another friend who got a massive butterfly tattoed on her back. Again, is this because butterflies are just so pretty, that you ache inside without one permanently etched on your body? Or what about the guy who stayed over at my place, a friend of my then-rommate, who emerged from a night of partying to show off the exact replica of the CD case of his favourite band? He’ll carry that on his shoulder, even when the kids don’t know what CDs are, or that they used to come in cases.
I personally feel that if something is going to be engraved in my skin, I’d think a bit more about what that was going to be. There will be no pixies or leprechauns, no butterflies or ice cream cones or favourite bands. Here ends the rant.by