It must have been a boring day today, because I found myself reading this on the website of The Gothamist. My brain immediately seized on possibilities.
I am NOT the type of person who acts my age, and I never plan to become one.
On the other hand, I have never before EVER entertained the idea of getting a tattoo, even a teeny-tiny one that is easily hidden under clothing.
Let me modify that. I never entertained the idea of getting a tattoo until I read that Gothamist article. Now, all of a sudden, I want one – not a big one, just a little one that I can either show or hide, depending on who is around to see it and who will be impressed by it or not.
Picture the headline: “70-Year-Old Woman Regains Youth and Becomes Cool.” The accompanying picture would show me, wearing jeans, a tank top and a bike helmet, with a denim jacket thrown over my shoulder, proudly showing off my new body art.
The problem, of course, is that, in order to show off a tattoo, you have to GET a tattoo. That involves two things that bear consideration: paying money and letting someone stick you with needles. If those two things don’t scare you away from the idea, the next thing you will have to do, of course, is to find a tattoo place that doesn’t look like it has been slowly declining since it was condemned by the Department of Health 20 years ago. I will leave the rest of this subject alone, because, never having gotten a tattoo, I don’t know what I am talking about.
It’s best if I just go back to my fantasy. What kind of needle-imposed body art should an aging Baby Boomer woman have permanently inked on herself, and on what body part?
I don’t want anything on my face except moisturizer and/or makeup, when necessary. Nobody but a dentist or an oral surgeon is going to touch any part of my head with a needle, and, even then, only when there is something seriously wrong with my mouth or I want to make my teeth look better.
I will never let any tattoo artist get anywhere near my butt. I have standards. By that I mean that I’m too modest and too fat. End of subject.
Other body parts will have to be eliminated as well, either because of modesty, fat, poor circulation or all three. That leaves me only with my left arm and shoulder to be used as a personal art gallery.
Oh, but what would I want to have pictured on my arm? It’s probably best to start with something small, just in case I come to my senses after the job is done and want to hide the results.
Let’s see –
A flower? No. That’s too tame.
A heart with a man’s name in it? No. If I ever get a new boyfriend and he has a different name, I’ll have too much stupid explaining to do.
A meaningless abstract design? Maybe, but what’s the use?
I’ll have to think about this some more.