Long before I ever got my first tattoo, I was online and stumbled upon an article which, even back then, was trying to tackle the stigmas against being in the workforce while also having been inked. It, in a short and sweet way, put to light the connections between those who choose to color their bodies, however much, and those who view it as a waste of time or money or, to go even further, how it may be wrong. The gist of it was this: It showed a shot of a doctor, fully robed in a white coat, medical gloves, shined shoes and a stethoscope equipped, smiling at his latest patient.
And in the second shot the site had juxtaposed with the first? He was out on the town with a friend in normal, more casual attire --- and he had two full tattooed sleeves, as they're called, from his shoulders down to his wrists, along with a chest piece in the shape of an archangel.
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Of course, I've scoured the Web for said article and, on par with my dumb luck, I couldn't find it. But I do think it spoke volumes about those aforementioned stigmas and quick-to-fire assumptions about reputable people and the act of having an artist redefine a part of one's body.
Now don't get me wrong, I do respect others' rights to their own views on the subject; one can be a kind or morose person, with or without a dragon on your arm or a rose on your back to prove it. (Plus tattoos representing dangerous icons or hateful images are a whole different matter.) But in terms of less grave art, be it a book quote or a lion or a heart for a family member and the list goes on, I'm always open to discussing the values of both sides and the importance of being cautious, depending on your field, about where the tattoo(s) go(es).
But in tandem with that, I can't deny my love for my own tattoos, one of which I actually got recently. (Both are pictured here, as a matter of fact; one is for my grandmother, one of my beloved best friends who passed from breast cancer and mesothelioma back in January of 2011, and the other which to me symbolizes so much about my love for writing and my need to fill blank space with that passion.) I think it's a very personal choice, and like that doctor, how you wear your art is just as important as how you wear your clothes, as public perception can only judge off what they see. (Or sometimes, what they see first.)
Bringing this to a close, I don't have any particular objective with this. It's not a "Well Hey, Take That Haters!" thing, nor is it an all-encompassing analysis on the risks and rewards of tattooing. I suppose it's just a short take, just one writer's opinion. I just know that be it a memorial for a grandparent or a loaded symbol for my own individual life, I don't regret mine and I happily await the chance for more.
The rest, respectfully, is up to you.
So, to tattoo? Or not to tattoo?
