Tattoos

 

"It's so working class," I said to my friend in describing my daughter's tattoo. It was a beautiful blue tiger on her left shoulder blade.

My friend, not knowing me to be a snob, relied. "My dear, we're all working class."

I have mixed feelings on tattoos.

The first I saw on a woman in the 1970s was just to the left of her cleavage, a tiny rose with a variety of delicate pink petals. It was beautiful.

How much pain do people go through, especially those who have much of their bodies tattooed?

I've complimented people with beautiful and/or interesting tattoos. 

But then I think... 

...what if 40 years from now they hate them? Or their skin is so wrinkled the tattoo sends a different message.  

These are the thoughts of a COW (Cranky Old Woman) who has gone through many fads like wearing a ring on every finger of a weight and size that if I fell overboard from a boat I would sink and drown. Today I wear two, thin, wedding and engagement rings. I can't even find most of the rings I had including the one with chains to my wrist bracelet.

As a joke for my daughter I applied a temporary tattoo. She saw through it immediately.

What would I get as a tattoo? Dump Trump? Hopefully that will be outdated before I'm outdated.

I think of the Leonard Cohen lover who had the first bars of Hallelujah tattooed on his neck along with the words? 

As a writer, do I have a favorite line from one of my books to forever be written on my body? If so, which part of my body?

Perhaps I could start with a quill pen sticking out of an ink bottle? Then if it didn't hurt too much, we could add a piece of paper with scribbles. Where? Maybe above my ankle. Or not...