On Tattoos, X-Men and My Inability to Make a Permanent Decision
With Lollapalooza in town over the weekend, there were a lot of tattoos in the city of Chicago. There were discreet tattoos adorning ankles. There were more masculine tattoos covering muscular shoulders. And then there were the tattoos that covered every inch of the owner’s body.
Those were my favorite.
I was on the train with a group of concert-goers when an incredibly sassy elderly woman asked one young man how many tattoos he had. He said he did not know. The elderly woman let out a cackle.
“How you not know how many tattoos you got?” she asked in amazement.
“I have a lot,” was the young man’s response. He may have been creative when it came to body art, but he certainly lacked conversational skills.
“I can see that,” the woman barked. “You like one of those people on television. You addicted.”
“I suppose I am,” he muttered sheepishly.
The elderly woman pointed to the girl sitting next to the tattooed man. She had yellow and orange hair. “You his girlfriend?”
The girl nodded.
“How many tattoos he got?” The old battle axe was relentless.
“He has them all over,” was all the girl could muster.
“I know!” The woman laughed. “That why I figured you might know how many he got.”
I suppressed a smile as I left the train.
My other favorite tattoo of the weekend was on a man who would definitely qualify as sexy in my book. He was compact, muscular, scruffy and had an adorable baby face. His tattoo, however, was a joke.
It was of some characters from the X-Men comics. What kind of grown man gets a tattoo of a comic book on his arm? Talk about ruining a good thing.
All of this exposure to body art got me thinking about my own tattoo. I don’t have it quite yet, but I have often thought about getting it. I’ve just never been able to decide what it would be.
If I am going to have an image permanently imprinted on my body, I need to make sure it is an image I can live with forever.
At one point in my life, I was actually sitting in a tattoo parlor with an image in mind. I was going to have a graphic equalizer tattooed to the back of my right leg. I was all set to go. And then at the last minute, I decided not to go through with it. As much as music and dancing are such huge parts of my life, I wasn’t ready to have a visual reminder of that on my body until the day I die.
Others have often suggested I get a tattoo that will represent my ridiculous love for Madonna. It’s a decent enough idea, but I am very hesitant to be that guy. I’d hate to be judged for my Madonna tattoo the way I judged the comic book tattoo I saw this weekend.
And so I am still without a tattoo. That may change someday or it may not. Only time will tell. In the meantime, I will continue to admire the body art of others and fantasize about going under the needle someday.
And I’ll be on the lookout for the tattooed hunk who can melt my icy heart.
I have three tats, one of which I sorta wish I hadn’t got but I can live with it. Yes tattoos are not for the impulsive – or they shouldn’t be!
You’ve really gotta live with the design before you get it done. I kept going back to mine to over the course of 6 months to make sure I still liked it cause once you make the plunge, there’s no turning back.
That story about the old lady is hilarious. Tee hee hee.
Just beware they are contagious once you get the first one. I want more. I have one between my shoulder blades and I often forget I even have it. I definitely agree with Drew and have it around for about 6 months to make sure you still like it.
I’ll go with you when you’re ready. I have an itch for another one.
tatoos are the windows to a person’s soul
but they are going to look silly when they age.
I do not have any tattoos. I’ve always secretly wanted one, such as a small and tasteful butterfly or flower or something equally ladylike. My problem is that I am convinced it would hurt; I’d end up stopping halfway through and end up with a bizarre half-tat. I was, after all, once a five-year-old child who had to be bribed with ice cream sundaes and a trip to the movies in order to get both my ears pierced, lol.
My sister, on the other hand, is very into “body art.” She has several tattoos, one of which is some sort of Chinese symbols for “peace” or “luck” or “prosperity” or something like. But who knows; it might actually say “dumb white girl paid too much for this tat?”
Be careful… they are addicting… I am already thinking about my next one.
DON’T DO IT! My answer to tattos is this… look at all of the silly cunts who have a Maori design inflicted upon their skin. Do you honestly think that any of them know where New Zealand is on a map, let alone know anything about its culture? [the same could be said for Celtic designs]. Just because they’ve had NZ lamb for sunday lunch [twice], does it give them the right / knowledge / whatever to sicken everybody else with the sight of there [rapidly] fading, badly done tattoo? I’ve posted on my own blog about tattoos and the unsuitability of 1. the thing itself and the subject matter, and 2, the fuckwits who have them. [This was a "soap box" moment]
“What kind of grown man gets a tattoo of a comic book on his arm?”
Um, hello…the Superman ‘S’ shield is like a iconic image. And it’s so what I would be having if I were stupid enough to get one.
Either that or a big ol’ Spiderman. Or Sebastian from the Little Mermaid…