I know – or am at least pretty sure – that like all trends, this present tattoo thing will fade away into the back alleys and dockside parlors from whence the practice came. And I’ll admit to a kind of culture – shall we say – ambivalence regarding the practice. I remember the “boys” returning from WWII sporting a discrete symbol or name and some design relative to their years in harms way. There was never much that was gaudy or large. There were exceptions. Like this guy I knew who came home sporting this eagle whose wings were spread from nipple to nipple. I remember being speechless when I saw it. I finally managed, “Nice bird, Joe. Did it hurt?” I was all of thirteen. What did I know? But I never forgot that.

The present crop of skin expressionism has, according to my casual observation, been overwhelmingly adopted by women. I have all kinds of untested theories about this, and I am certain that none of them meet the standard for peer reviewed consideration.

Number one is this: the girls love exhibitionism. You doubt this? The key word here is HAIR! I rest my case.

Now, I don’t go looking for these things – they find me. For instance the time I was walking through a local store and this woman was “bent” over changing her baby’s diaper in the middle of the walkway. Nothing wrong with being bent over in public, but if you choose to do this be conscious of the rise of your pants. Her’s didn’t rise quite to the standard of common decency. No one but her board certified proctologist should have such access. The artfully placed tattooed rose did little to temper the view. Good try, but no cigar.

As everyone knows who is conscious, young women seem obsessed with exposing their middle parts. Anything between the breasts and the garden of eden is open season. Sometimes the garden is invaded, just a little, but the tattoo rising up from those regions gives one the illusion of – well, the illusionary. What you see is not what you get. I don’t know what tattoos cost but I guess if you paid dearly for one just north of your pudenda you would feel some pressure to show it.

I have already mentioned the tattooed butt crack in an earlier post. This seems to be the focal point of the art form these days as I have noticed several examples within the last month. All you gotta do is walk down the street and look for some young woman bending over for some reason. Many times just sitting down on a bench is enough. What in the world of anatomy is going on here?

And it’s not just the girls. I have this guy friend who sometimes ago announced that he was getting a tattoo. It was to be an oriental symbol for love. It was to appear on the back of one or the other of his shoulders, I forget. I, at the time, thought it was a bit over the edge for a mature man to do such a thing but after a while, I began to see the wisdom of it. It was a quiet demonstration of a deeply felt emotion. Unless it becomes popular for guys to parade around shirtless (you don’t want to be around when it’s my turn) his “love” symbol will not become a cause for embarrassment for anyone. And after all, it is love. And I love this guy.

However, if he had said it was going to appear somewhere just north of the you-know-what, I would have called the cops.

1 Comment

  1. "between the breasts and the garden of eden" Is that somewhere near McDade?

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