Growing Older But Not Up

TATTOO HUE

Having spent a fair amount of time in a water park this past weekend, I have come to the conclusion that I and maybe six other people on this planet are the only adults without tattoos. Practically every person who walked past my wave pool lounger had some kind of body art. I was so fascinated with the parade of tattoos that I could hardly read my book. I saw flowers, animals, cartoons and Asian symbols. You name it; somebody was wearing it on their behind or their arm. I even saw two men with faces inked on their backs including The Three Stooges. Why would you want The Three Stooges on your back for the rest of your life? What is this craziness that causes people to permanently alter their skin in such a way? I’m not criticizing their choice. I just don’t understand it. I’m confused about the whole trend because I really don’t think a butterfly riding on top of my butt crack is going to make me feel better about my appearance. A sunflower surrounding my belly button would only draw attention to a part of me that is not all that attractive thanks to old pregnancy stretch marks, and I don’t need a guardian angel draped across my boob. That’s just wrong on multiple levels. And where’s that stuff going to be in twenty years when gravity gets a toehold? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want someone to roll me over in a nursing home and wonder what that green blob between my hip and thigh is. Somebody please explain to me why tattoos are so enticing to folks. While we’re at it, somebody explain the nose ring thing, too. I saw a man who had a great big ring that ran in one nostril and out the other. I wanted to hook a chain to it and hitch him to a heard of cows. He also had those wooden earring things that make a big hole in your earlobe. Hmmm. Give me some of that. Not.

I’ve also decided I spend way too much time worrying about my swimsuit choice, because many other people apparently do not. I’m all about personal freedom, so I don’t want anyone telling me what to wear. However, there are times when I think the swimsuit police could help us all to have a more pleasant time by the pool. Some people should be stopped at the gate and asked to change clothes. I can’t help but wonder what some folks are thinking when they pick out their swimsuit. I sweat over my choice each year. I know what the least attractive parts of my body are, and I try to work around those. Anything that needs camouflaged gets covered up. But why should I worry about a few stretch marks when a 350 pound man is wearing trunks so small that he looks naked? And just because you weigh 90 pounds and can fit into a bikini the size of a postage stamp does not mean the world wants to see you in a thong that resembles dental floss. Please, save it for your trip to Brazil. Besides, it's unsanitary for me to sit where your naked butt cheeks have been. I’m no prude, and I realize people want to show off their new $5000 boobs, but there’s a time and place for everything. There are toddlers in the wave pool for heaven’s sake.

I realize many folks are just trying to draw attention to themselves, and perhaps I really am getting old because I‘m so bewildered by this willingness to go to extremes in order to stand out in a crowd. Each generation has its own way of trying to be different, I guess. Mine did, too. Our choices weren’t so permanent though. To help pass the time by the wave pool I tried to decide what kind of tattoo I would get if I ever jumped onto that trend. I’m thinking an Easy Button on my butt, so I could press it every time I sit down. I’m a multi-tasker.