by Chrysa Smith
—-then take me back to the European Masters to look at a little belly bulge and cellulite. There’s just something about this new tattooed body trend that not only makes you cringe, but makes you question character. Bill Maher, comic and HBO talk show host, had me laughing out loud when he referred to the tattoeed girlfriend of Jesse James (scoundrel hubby of sweetie, Sandra Bullock) as the kind of girl any boy would want to bring home to kill their parents.
Why is that? I mean, shooting ink under your skin doesn’t make you a bad person—it just makes you bereft of any fashion sense and needy for attention. I’m not a prude. I can get the sexy, hidden butterfly tattooed on a hip or ankle. I remember the buzz in the girls locker room of our Catholic high school (circa 1978), when we all tried to sneak a peak at the one bad girl who sported one on an inner thigh—oohh, so verboten!!
But I don’t get the full body painting at all. And I wonder how much tattoo regret really settles in when one hits middle age or older—when a few jiggles and sags stretch the canvas to the point, where the gallery should be closed for good. It’ll be time to hang up the thong and reach for a larger canvas. I just knew, if given enough time, granny panties could make a comeback.
What do you think of body ink? Write it down here, where it can easily be erased.
As mother of a son who has repeatedly marked up the skin I so carefully tended when he was a baby, I’m in full agreement with you. The things are awful and looking at them makes me want to cry. Use a magic marker, use water colors, use anything, but make sure it comes off. In my more evil moments (most of the time for me), I pray he’ll grow to hate the things as much as I do and I can say “told you so!”
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