If it’s any consolation, this post may offend you less than it makes me feel about 100 years old. Let’s just say that there are three fashion trends that I don’t understand:
1) Fake fingernails that make a woman’s hands look like the ends of a lobster tail;
2) Those trendy horn-rimmed eyeglasses as round as quarters that are supposed to make you look smart. Or like Al Franken; and
3) Tattoos. And if you’re really hip, you call it Body Art. I’m not exactly sure why. Will we see it in the Louvre one day?
I’m also pretty sure that I’m the only person in the entire state of Arizona (with the exception of my mother), who does not currently sport a tattoo. Trust me, I check. You should see the neighborhood gym where I work out; I’m pretty sure the owners are going to revoke my membership if I don’t arrive one morning with something colorful. Soon.
My adopted state has as many tattoo parlors as fast-food restaurants, which is to say that they’re effectively on every corner—the tattoo places, that is. So, when you get your next tattoo in Arizona, you can rejoice in knowing that you’ll be able to nosh on a vanilla milkshake and an order of fries as you sit for the carving of your neck tattoo.
It used to be that tattoos were reserved for military men and ex-cons as some sort of right of passage. My dad has one, although he served for four years in the Navy during WWII and I suppose the men back then had to do something to take their minds off getting shot at on a regular basis. Dad’s tattoo on his arm is cool; it has historical meaning. And it’s also mostly faded now and shriveled and has become my fashion barometer for whenever friends ask me, “When are you going to get a tattoo?” To which I reply: “What’s it going to look like when I’m 75 and sprawled on a hospital bed getting prepped for hip surgery?”
That visual usually shuts up my friends and it’s worked for not only tattoos but also nose and belly button piercings. I’ll save piercings for another post.
Sure, tattoos might look rebellious and hip when you’re in your 20’s, 30’s, 40’s, although 50’s and up might be pushing it. Right? And nothing says wow like wearing an expensive sleeveless dress to your best friend’s wedding and showing off the Chinese symbols on your right arm or the longitude directions to your ex-boyfriend’s house tattooed to your left shoulder. Yeah, that’s real classy. Thank you, Angelina Jolie.
But that’s just me. I can’t get excited about tattoos. And the hot needles and thoughts of burning flesh don’t sweeten the deal for me either. Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration, but you get the idea.
So, I plan to sit this trend out. It hasn’t been the first and I’m sure it won’t be my last. After all, I said no to “big hair” in the 80’s too.
To each his own.
::Writer X also writes at The 100 Most Annoying Things::