I do not have any tattoos. I’ve admired many, and have thought of some it would be nice to have, but I always overthink them. The classic “Mary + PZ” on a heart-shaped background appealed to me, once upon a time, but it was a little trite, and I feared that once I put it in indelible words on my skin, that’s when she would leave me. And now, after 40+ years, it’s both trite and redundant.
I also love the art of the Coast Salish peoples, and have a particular salmon design in mind that I wouldn’t mind making permanent, but…I’m white as they come, belonging to the ethnic group that displaced and killed those people. It would be appropriation in the truest sense, so no, I have held off.
So I don’t think it’s going to happen now.
I can console myself with the thought that at least I’m not one of those people who gets stupid drunk and has something ridiculous inked on. Or worse, someone who puts deep thought into a tattoo that is supremely idiotic, like this one.
(Warning: below the fold in case you’re a sensitive classics teacher who cries at abuse of your discipline.)
That is a fellow who wanted to put up a warning sign for potential mates. Can you imagine if he got lucky one night, brought his date to his hotel room, started to shed his clothes, and they got one look at that, stopped, and said, “No, I can’t do this.”? At least he’ll never have a partner who is significantly smarter than he is.
I’m also imagining him at the beach, his life a living hell, because he keeps getting picked on by classics professors who come up and kick sand at him, until he’s driven to write off for a Latin textbook and study Cicero and Caesar. So maybe it will have a happy outcome?