I get it. You’re an adult, and you’re away at college. There are many freedoms at your disposal, even though you’re not quite old enough for the one you _really_ want. You can buy a pack of smokes, a bong, and, as your politically charged aunt will tell you, you can vote. But there’s one freedom that’s even more dangerous than being perpetually stoned because of your new triple percolator or voting for Mitt Romney: the right to get a tattoo.
Tattoos, when done well, can be cool. A friend of mine has the word “faith” tattooed on his forearm. It doesn’t mean faith in a higher power; it means he has faith in himself. Despite, or maybe because of, the fact it pisses off his mom, it’s a sweet tat.
A bad tattoo, however, is a lot like wearing an Ed Hardy shirt you can never take off. You’ll think it’s cool, initially. But later on you’ll come to realize what an awful decision you’ve made and that your friends were right when they said it makes you look like a fucking tool.
Rushing to get tatted up without putting much thought into it can only end poorly because a good tattoo requires just that — a lot of thought. Just because you suddenly can get a tattoo doesn’t mean you should, at least not yet. Wait until you have an idea more significant than “this dragon looks sick.” A tat should have some sort of meaning that’s deeper than the ink on your skin.
I’ve seen far too many people become so excited when they can finally get a tattoo that they completely ignore the permanence of their decision. The cliché question your parents pose to you is more useful than their daily nagging: “Are you going to want it in 20 years? How about 50?” If it’s going to lose value as your life progresses then it shouldn’t be permanently etched onto your skin.
Don’t think you won’t regret it. Even people with the most stubborn beliefs can have a change of heart. White supremacists aren’t exactly known for having a change of heart, but Bryon Widner was one of the exceptions. The New York Daily News outlined the excruciatingly painful process the former skinhead underwent to remove the hateful tattoos covering his face and neck.
Tattoos far less extreme than a swastika can still cause remorse.
When I traveled to Europe with a group from high school, we found the laws for tattoos and piercings were much more lenient than in America. The parlors cared about your age even less than the bars did. With this early freedom, many of my peers went nuts. Two of my friends got matching nipple piercings. They’d show each one of us and we’d laugh. When the novelty wore off, they simply removed the metal bars.
The girl who got a tattoo was not as fortunate. She decided to have “fearless” tattooed on her stomach in a thick, obnoxious gothic font. When the same girl returned from the club with more hickies than skin cells, we laughed. When she showed us the tattoo, we grimaced. It was bad. It was so bad that when she left, my friends and I each turned to each other and said the same thing, “She’s really going to regret that one day.”
I want tattoos. However, two years past my 18th birthday, I’m still ink-free. I have no idea what I want yet. That, compounded with my embarrassing fear of needles, is why I’m in no rush. I might do some regretful things when I turn 21, but they’ll fade from memory faster than an awful tattoo will.