Are Tattoos Becoming the New Family Scrapbook?

What is it about getting a tattoo that seems to have two of the men in my life so enthralled?  It all started with my oldest son's 18th birthday. He and his Dad took a trip to a local artist and came out, proud as could be, of the elaborate Celtic drawings that adorned their shoulder and arm respectively. A rite of passage, a memory for the scrapbook and an imprint to last forever. 

Contrary to what you might expect, this will not be an indictment on the tattooing industry. In fact, I was proud of the boys and the opportunity to bond in a way that a father and son could when the son has entered manhood. I was good with it, to quote my kids.

But then something odd happened. They wanted to do it again. 

Okay, now wait a minute.  Was it not enough that each was "inked" with a detailed graphic image that measures the size of a large index card?

It seems that when the apprehension that accompanies the taboo of a tattoo disappears, the desire to go back to the parlor chair grows exponentially with each passing year.

According to Smithsonian Magazine, tattoos were historically, "permanent designs—sometimes plain, sometimes elaborate, always personal—have served as amulets, status symbols, declarations of love, signs of religious beliefs, adornments and even forms of punishment."  This has been going on for thousands of years. Not too far removed from where we are today.

When questioning friends and colleagues about the obsession, I received positive reviews. A female friend explained that she, the owner of five "tats" herself, attaches special moments in her life to each one.

"They all mean something special to me," she said. 

Another friend said that he would get his all over again if he were given the chance to change anything he had done in his life.  He went on to tell me that the circumstances that led him to his full arm "sleeve" and mural across his back were not always pleasant but he wears them proudly. He said that it was a part of his history.

As I continued to ask around, I discovered that many of the people I work with and hang out with have a bit of art of their own to show off or talk about. Maybe tattoos weren't so taboo after all. 

Could it be that taboo is the eyes of the beholder?

I'm starting to understand that there must be a great emotional tie to this behavior. A memory of a loved one, a stand for independence or even an expression of deep seeded emotion.  The process goes way beyond the pain, the color and the permanency.

As a parent, and a wife, my heart tells me that the bodies of the people I love are a tender temple to be ferociously protected. But to them that temple is a vessel for self expression. I suppose I should be grateful that neither of them adorn a picture of some cartoon figure with word "MOM" or "WIFE" inscribed beneath it.  I can't imagine how silly that would look when we grow old enough to collect our Social Security. 

For now, my guys walk through life proud of the artwork that lives and breathes along with them. And for as long as I am the "MOM" and "WIFE" that love them, I will show that pride as well.