Nice tats.

I think in fifty years a nursing home will be an interesting place to be. Not because all of us, once we are in that age bracket, will be so fascinating with our long, boring stories of rotary phones and the bursting of the dot com bubble, but because of all the tattoos.
According to my research, forty percent of people between the ages of twenty-six and forty have at least one tattoo. I have to confess, I am one of them.

I love my tattoo and I love the fact that I waited until I had a kid to get it. It was our fifth wedding anniversary and Hubby and I wanted to do something big, but being in the midst of an unemployment spell, we had very little money so jewelry or a trip were completely out of the question. So we decided to spend a grand total of fifty bucks and each get a tattoo of the other’s first initial on our ankles.

We showed up at this tattoo parlor in New Jersey recommended by Hubby’s brother - where the owner was the former leader of some eighties hair band I can’t recall - on a Thursday afternoon (one of the benefits of unemployment, you can avoid the drunken Saturday rush at the tat’ place) clutching the printout of our enlarged initials in exactly the size and font we wanted (literally Times New Roman – losers!). The staff was wonderful and, ignoring what obvious dorks we were, did a great job. I still lord it over Hubby that after going first and tellling him, "It's not too bad, it kind of burns a little." he emerged after his was done to tell me, "Are you out of your mind? That hurt like a mother!" I guess childbirth changes your perspective of pain. Now when I look at my tattoo - I honestly forget I have it most days - I'm reminded of that tough time we went through and how we came through it relatively unscathed. I love that it's sort of enigmatic and I have to explain it to people. Which when I do elicits the "Oh, you'll wind up divorced" look we all give people who have their beloved's name inked on their bodies ala Billy Bob and Angelina, but I know we're different and just ignore them.

Bad relationship tats highlight the idiocy of some tattoos and my reference to elder care facilities of the future. Getting a tattoo these days is as run of the mill as getting your ears pierced - something young people beg their parents for and are told to wait until they are old enough. Once some of these kids come of age, the images they choose to permanently etch onto their bodies reflect the immaturity of the person making this choice. Under no circumstances should a cartoon character be permanently inked on your body. Do you really love Tweety Bird that much? If so, you're not old enough to get a tattoo. Greek letters? Just wear your damn pin every where if you're so into it, because, trust me, ten years from now if you still speak to more than two of your "brothers" or "sisters" it'll be a miracle. I have true admiration for the people who are really into tattoos for the love of the art form (I have a bit of a girl-crush on Kat VonDee from LA Ink) and the crazy-artistic stuff they choose.

Tattoo placement is also a crucial choice. Hubby and I chose the location we did for two reasons. One, you can hide an ankle tattoo very easily and, two, ankles tend to age pretty well as opposed to, say, your biceps. Sure, you have mad-pumped arms now, stud, but fifty years from now that tribal band is going to look pretty gross on the flacid chicken wing of an old man. And ladies? That lower stomach tat you got so your jeans still hide it and your mom won't see? It's going to be unrecognizable after a couple of babies. What is that? Russia? Ooops, it used to be a butterfly.

Back to the nursing home, picture all of these idiots in their old age. How's a tramp stamp* going to look over the top of an adult diaper? (Pictured above - don't even get me started on that hair. Coming soon: "Why highlights should never be done at home".) And no, it's not that all tattoos look funny on old people. I get a little teary-eyed seeing an old guy with an Army/Navy/Marine/Air Force tattoo because I see him as a young man. That's right, Gramps, you were a bad ass and I respect you for that. No one is going to respect some geezer with the Road Runner on his chest.

So people, have a little foresight. Your children are going to want to kill themselves when they see Mommy tattooed cherries over her girly bits as they give you a sponge bath years from now. If you are going to get inked make sure it's appropriate, will stand the test of time and hopefully has meaning other than, "Wasn't that night crazy?". Some things, like that second shot of Jaiger, seem like a good idea on a Saturday night, but in the cold light of Sunday morning are definitely a mistake.

*B - yours does not qualify.