Came across a story the other day that underscores the permanence of the decisions we make in our youth. It is a wry piece with a hint of sadness. In a book I co-wrote with Laura Ingraham, Of Thee I Zing, we opined on the tattoo fad writing: "Please don't call it 'body art.' Tattoos are not only disgusting, but they change shape as you age. That cool eagle tattooed on your shoulder at age eighteen, by forty-five looks like a seagull with leprosy."
What follows is the tale of a deflated unicorn and the lasting mark of the choices we make on a whim. For those with friends or kids contemplating marking themselves with a tattoo or in more profound ways, read this and be warned:
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/05/booming/forever-the-girl-with-the-unicorn-tattoo.html?smid=tw-share&_r=0
I couldn't agree more. I got a tattoo of a hummingbird on my shoulder when I was young (I'm in my late 40's now). As I approach the age and thought of being a grandma, I find myself aghast at the idea of being THAT grandma. Granny ain't supposed to have tattoos! At least mine didn't, my husband's didn't, and no one else's that I know did. I am trying to have it removed but I'm beginning to think it may not ever be completely gone. I do wish I had had a better understanding of my own dignity and the worth of my own body back then. My mother tried to tell me but then I wish I had listened to her about many things.
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