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During my years of being a doctor my exposure to tattoos has
expanded to rival that of a dedicated tattoo artist. Working in anaesthesia and
theatres I tend to see plenty of exposed flesh, and indeed on ITU my referrals
have their own collection of ‘ink.’ And there is still a vast variety of colour
and style. The cringe worthy ‘suck here’ tattooed above the pubic bone, with a
helpful arrow pointing southwards, makes an intermittent appearance. Odd
Arabic/Chinese/Indian script seems to be getting more popular, much to my
bewilderment, as does tribal Polynesian tattoos around biffed up biceps (which
looks OK, to be fair).
And I think as Tattoos have improved in their style, colour
and frequency their use as an indicator for general rough-ness has diminished.
Don’t get me wrong—there is still a usage for the well-established
teeth-to-tattoo ratio in judging people, but on a whole more and more younger
and younger people have them now, and are perfectly decent types.
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Perhaps it was late Eighties to early Nineties when it
flipped over. I seem to recall that average folk were beginning to get ‘inked’
then. More women were starting to have butterflies/roses/celtic patterns, often
around ankles and lower backs. Celebrities too caught on, and I think as
those images filled the magazines it became far less stigmatised. It slipped
from the realms of alternative culture/heavy metal/goth into the mainstream. Interestingly
I think the alternative fashion side reacted by becoming more extreme in the
tattooing—advancing from small areas of tattoos to sleeves and whole backs.
And I don’t know whether its desensitisation, or maturity,
or mid-life crisis, but I’ve found myself increasingly drawn to them. Of
course, when I was 20 and full into grunge (with my parka, long hair, earrings,
Mudhoney t-shirt) I went to have one done. Quite a funny story, actually. I
went with my buddy, Giles, who is pretty much straight as they come. We decided
to have a bit of ‘flash’ work—a yellow smiley face (we used to wear the badges
as teenagers). On our backsides. So I ask for mine the size of a ten pence, and
30 mins later it’s done. Giles, looking pale, asks for his smaller. Smaller
than a 10p? Like a penny? To be fair, he had to have a patch shaved off to do
it.
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Anyway I digress, as ever. Not content with my crap tattoo,
that is, after all, only just better than having ‘Elvis’ on my arm, or Horny
Devil (complete with a well endowed red imp) on my deltoid, I’ve been
contemplating some major ink. This could be regarded as an atypical move by a
consultant anaesthetist, but as long as it isn’t across my face like the
leopard-dude I should get away with it.
But what to have? You wait until 41 to do it properly and
you can’t just have any old crap. It has to represent or symbolise something.
Anything circular or tribal won’t work—my physique is said to be the bastard
offspring of Gandhi and Casper the Friendly Ghost. All my interests are ultra-geeky—options
of daleks, spiderman or Gandalf have met with a medusa stare from the wife. I
don’t like writing on tattoos—part of me worries that ‘Ross is great’ will not
come across well in High-Elven, and when I think of names I always remember
Jonnie Depp and ‘Winona Forever.’
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So anyhow, I’ll probably be still working up the nerve in
ten years time, and in the interim I’m embracing middle-age and growing a
moustachio in November in aid of men’s cancer. Far less permanent if it all
goes horribly wrong.
I’ll leave you with Lydia, one of the greatest proponents of
body-art the Muppet world has known.
Awesome! I confess - I too sport a tatt - it was my 50th birthday present. It is in a perfectly decent place (my right ankle), and is the rather commonplace crescent moon and 3 stars representing my having survived raising 3 children to adulthood as a single mother! I am content with my small bit of wasp-rebellion; after all good Lutheran Girls don't (A.) get divorced or (B.)get tattooed. Of course, I was never good at being good!
ReplyDeleteOh Connie, yours sounds great! I, too, have a tatt. I was OBSESSED with them as a teenager (in the late 80's when it still wasn't cool in our area for girls to have them). When I turned 21 I got a seahorse tattooed on my tummy. My friend was panicking (the one who was giving me the tatt as a birthday present), since I'd walked in there to get feline ink and as soon as I saw the seahorse (and I HATE the sea), that was the one I had to have :-/ Have I regretted it since - nope!
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