Getting Inked in My 60s

tattoo artist in black gloves drawing a tattoo on a person s arm

Photo by Isabella Mendes on Pexels.com

Inked, getting a tat, body art, whatever you call it, getting a tattoo is not usually a spur-of-moment decision (unless perhaps you have had too much to drink). I had never been a big fan of tattoos. Whenever I thought of tattoos I thought of skulls and daggers, prison inmates, motorcycle gangs, and counter-culture rebels.

Even though both of my sisters AND my mom have had tattoos forever, I did not. As they reached their teens, I tried very hard to dissuade my children from permanently disfiguring their bodies with ink. My thought was that tattoos are so permanent that I did not want my kids to regret doing something so irreversible without the maturity to accept the consequences. As I secretly hoped that the ‘wanting a tattoo’ phase would fade, I told them that at 18 (because we all know that is definitely the age of reason, actually it is the age that they no longer needed my permission) they could decide for themselves. Continue reading