Yesterday morning, my son Scott (19) informed me he was planning to go later on in the day with his friend to get a tattoo. Wow. He wanted my approval. (He didn’t even want to consult his father, because he knew Larry would talk him out of it, and he didn’t want to be talked out of it at all.) I can’t say I was thrilled at the news, but I wasn’t down on it either. My thoughts about getting tattoos are this: Make sure you love the design you pick because it will be on you when they bury you, and I’m presuming a long life here. Also, get one tattoo, not an armful which is so popular these days. I understand getting a tattoo can be a mistake, but it’s going to be his mistake, and honestly, if getting a tattoo is his deepest regret in life, than he’s got nothing to worry about. My husband, on the other hand carried on like the kid was going to go out and have his arm amputated. Oh, my gosh, what a whiner! It’s only a tattoo! My biggest thing was the cost. He was spending money he shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t going to contribute a dime towards it.
He left and came home later on in the evening with this black bird design. I think it’s okay, but I told him the only design I was going to really be thrilled about was a bright red heart with the word “MOM” through the middle. Oh, well, we can’t always get what we want.
I’m hoping this will be the LAST tattoo. I’ll keep you posted. Mamma Mia…what a way to start the new year.