OMG that TAT is like, Sooooo Cool

I’ve got a blog topic that I must write about.  Not because I know anything about this subject in particular but because I’ve been harassed by a certain reader (who is also a bestie) for long enough that now I’m just giving in.

I’m not the type of woman who is particularly fascinated by body art.  Yes, I’m talking about tattoos.  It’s just not my thing.  That being said, I do admit that it’s crossed my mind regarding if I wanted one.  I realize I’ve just contradicted myself of sorts. To tat or not to tat, that’s the question.  As a kid I was far too much a square to really even think about it that changed about 5 years ago, a slight bit.  What happened?  Well…

I had been considering a nose ring for the longest time but had resisted because of two things: work and pain.  I wasn’t sure how the folks at work would look at it and I’m not really into self-inflicted pain.  Not really.  But with time I realized that my nose was cute enough to support the ring and frankly if my boss didn’t like it, he could go jump off a cliff.  That’s what I told myself.  It’s also very much a part of the culture too, hence my mother’s blessing was easy in coming (she has one also as do nearly every female in my family).  So off I went to a tat parlor to get me one (a piercing, not a tat).  While I waited to be tortured, I wandered around in awe of the artwork displayed on the wall.  Even my conservative side couldn’t help but admire the finely sketched out pictures drawn by the artist (Yes, I’m not just saying this, and the guy/gal who ink?  They are indeed artists in my book) that went from floor to ceiling. 

Since then to now, I’ve considered the option of a tattoo, possibly old age has worked in the opposite effect for me where instead of going the orthodox way, I’ve become more open minded.  Oh well.  I think for most of my friends who I’ve admitted to that I would seriously contemplate getting one, they are always taken aback.  First reaction:  really?? 

Okay I get it, I project prissiness.  I own that if one were to go by appearances alone, one would naturally assume that I was as boring as day old bread and additionally I admit that it would be quite easy to also have confidence in that I do not have a singular molecule that screams ‘interesting’ but so what?  I mean we all have a deeply hidden ‘crazy’ or better yet, ‘exploratory’ buried within, right?  Right?  Wait, is it just me who…*clears throat uncomfortably*…moving on…

But yea, I do like them.  I won’t say that I’m into the fully body tat thing.  Mostly because to me the unmarred flesh is beautiful all on its own, no need to alter it that much.  And I also consider what happens to it with age…think droopy.  A gorgeous blooming rose becomes a wilted willow by the age of 70.  Yikes, so not a good mental image.  But I submit, a meaningful pictorial on the arm or a depiction of something significant on the leg or a lower back, why not?  May be your mother’s favorite bird on the rib cage or possibly a child’s name trailing up a leg?  Whatever thrums the strings within your soul, I say go for it.  Sure.  I can admire that.  Not that I want that, I can admire it.

Lately though, and much to my annoyance, I’ve noted that tattooing has become more a trend/fashion than a statement.  Before when you asked someone about their body art, they would have a story behind it, express the symbolism, and make you think in the process.  You saw the passion behind what they had done to themselves, the very evidence of their pain/happiness/sorrow.  Now it’s more like ‘oh hey, chicks dig tats, Imma get one’ or ‘guys think tats are hot, let me get one strategically placed so they think I’m edgy’, never mind the reasoning or if there is one at all.  It’s a fashion statement now.  I severely dislike this particular brand of humanoid, yes, that statement alone is superlatively judgmental of me but even I can have my moments.  My basic outlook is:  If there’s no purpose behind it, don’t do it…just sayin’.

On a side note, Memorial Day weekend here was Rolling Thunder.  We had tons of tatted up individuals strutting their stuff around the District along with pretty pimped out hogs.  On that Friday as I was getting coffee I ran into one of the guys who had road in from somewhere like Timbuktu (not really but I can’t remember the state) and he was telling me about his tats when he caught me checking them out, believe me, this was out of curiosity similar to what you would do if you were in an art gallery.  Systematically he went through and regaled me with stories as to when he had each inked and more importantly why (and how bad it hurt but that was because I wanted to know).  He was actually super friendly, very open to discuss and I got it, I clearly understood.  He had a reason.  He really was passionate about what each of those pieces of art represented to him.  He was also an executive by profession who hid the tats under suits and ties.  When I asked him whether this bothered him, he responded with ‘no, this is personal, that’s professional.’  Okay.  I liked him. 

Anyhow, so why don’t I get one? 

Well I’m torn, and here are a few reasons as to why:

At the end of the day I grew up in a culture that although is okay with nose piercings, is not too keen on tattoos.  We can put on henna which will wash away within days but not permanent ink.  I’ve always been a part of this culture and therefore have accepted it without thought. 

The pain factor is also a huge deterrent.  No, I do not like it, call me silly.  The very idea of a needle coming near me causes me to break out into hives.  In the past I would rather be felled with the most inconvenient diseases if it meant I didn’t have to take a shot.  I HATE NEEDLES.  And other than the lick it and stick it types, I believe the real tats you gotta have done with some sort of sharp instrument, correct?  Let me just put it this way:  big, huge, honking preventive strike right off the bat. 

Most important is probably my mother.  Need I say anything more?  She would murder me.  Simply murder me.  And if you think I could hide this from her with strategically placed articles of clothing, then you don’t know a mothers instincts at all.  She can smell when I’m up to something; you think she wouldn’t be able to sniff this one out?  Of course she can and I wouldn’t put it past her.  My father would probably be disapproving to some extent but he most certainly wouldn’t kill me for it.  My mom would have no qualms with knocking my block clear off my shoulders if I so much as even thought about it. 

There is also the religious factor.  I really don’t know what Islam’s view point in tattooing is nor have I bothered doing any research regarding it since I’ve never really actually taken the idea of being inked too seriously.  If I ever did, I can guarantee it would be an impulse purchase (is that possible?).  I couldn’t/wouldn’t think about it long before actually doing the deed since I’m sure that I would somehow manage to talk myself out of it as well.  But back to religion, yea maybe god would be a bit put out that I went and messed with what was given to me.  What if this is the one singular deed that I do that has the gates of heaven shut in my face for all eternity?  I’m sorry, I just laughed at that myself since I know darn well that the multitude of other sins I’ve committed have probably put that nail in the coffin long ago but still…one’s gotta keep at least some options open, right?

Well there you go my blog about tats.  As you can see, I do not condemn it at all.  I’ve given it plenty of thought, even wistfully fantasized about getting one but my naturally wimpy nature prevents me from doing so outright (along with mom and God).  In fact I doubt I will ever get one unless either the woman that gave birth to me (and who plays a major role in my existence to this day, no matter how old I am and will ALWAYS have a say-so) or the Almighty comes to me and articulates ‘it’s okay, get a picture of snoopy on your arm’ and I can tell you now, neither will be stepping up to that plate anytime soon. 

S, I hope you’re happy.  The stuff I do for you, honestly.

*Note:  Yes, the fantastic drawing at the top was done by yours truly.  If you tilt your head to one side and squint, it may resemble Snoopy but then again may be not.  The one thing (I emphatically repeat this over and over again because I do not want to be sued for abject misrepresentation of my abilities) I've never claimed to be even remotely adequate at is painting/sketching.  Hopefully you're eyes aren't bleeding and no, I shall never be a tat artist myself because after all, I suck at even the most minor of drawings.  Meh.