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Thursday, September 05, 2013


I am an "old school" curmudgeon. I believe that it is OK to have a tattoo if you are a Maori warrior, a sailor, a biker or a hooker. If you are a clerical employee riding an elevator in a highrise, a tattoo might not be a great idea.

I hopped in my elevator the other morning and was joined by a thirty-something woman in a scoop-top skirt. She had a long script phrase tattoo-ed around her collarbone region. It was not a work of art - it had the look of hasty graffiti. I am guessing that her choice of neckline was intended to allow this body art to be examined by the general public. This wasn't an opportunity that I seized - the last thing I want to do is stare at a female stranger's neckline in order to read her sloppy tattoo. I ended up feeling very awkward in the elevator and stared intently at my shoelaces until I reached my floor.

I have loved ones that sport tattoos. I understand that I am an inflexible grump that doesn't understand the significance and beauty of permanently marking your skin through a procedure that would be called "torture" if the CIA did it to suspected terrorists. I know that tattoos are in the mainstream now; I am a fossil not to embrace them. My loved ones have added my insensitive comments regarding tattoos to my long list of "invalidating behaviors." 

But tattoos are a form of permanent clothing, and styles change.  I will hang on to my bad attitude on this issue. So there.

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