Thursday, August 6, 2015

Thoughts From The Water Park, Day Two

Well, had there been any doubt at all, it is now officially dispelled: a significant majority of adult Americans have at least one tattoo that is plainly visible while they are wearing the bathing suit of their choice.  (A day and a half spent in line at a water park tends to ram that point home to even the most casual observer.)

As it happens, I have no tattoos myself.  Not because I am fundamentally opposed to them; more because I've never come across any word or image that I could imagine still wanting permanently engraved on my body fifty years from now, should I be fortunate enough to live so long.  (Not to mention the whole gratuitous pain thing.)

I understand the names or pictures of loved ones.  I understand symbols or words that have meaning to you. I understand baby handprints and intricately colored sleeves that are actually works of art no matter what you may think of the medium.  What I do not understand is skulls; flaming, dagger-penetrated, or otherwise.  I've seen so many in the past 24 hours of contemplation that I've almost come to think of them as a default tattoo for the absence of something original or meaningful, "Hey, maybe I should get a skull tat like everybody else has."  Which I would think would defeat the purpose of having a tattoo that marks your individuality, but what the hell do I know.  Any thoughts??

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