Why do people get themselves tattooed?

Eeek!” It took a while before I stopped squirming at the sight of multi-pierced ears.  You know, the kind where the entire lobe is studded with holes showing off a string of loop rings?  The Generation Net or “IGen”  (those born in the age of the Internet and the iPod) gives it a thumbs-up WFYB — Whatever floats your boat — rating.  When they began to punch the eyebrow, the nose, the upper lip, and most shocking of all, the tongue, my squirming returned.  Body piercing shows no sign of going out of date until perhaps the whole body resembles a garden hose that leaks from top to bottom.

The popularity of tattoos and body piercing took off in the early 1990s, but we know that tattooing has been around for much longer than that.  Think of the pharaohs and their permanently etched raccoon eyes or those indigenous tribes who use them as symbols of bravery, strength, and virility.  When Shirley MacLaine played the role of a taxi dancer in the movie version of the Broadway smash hit, Sweet Charity, she wore her heart on her arm — not on her sleeve —burrowed deep in charcoal black and screaming red.  I imagine the pain of running a sharp needle through the skin to dye and etch a design, dot by dot, and voila! The design becomes permanent that goes taut, loose, sags, wiggles and wrinkles with the wearer.

Back then, tattooing was closely identified with vagabond, jump-ship sailors and gangsters or those who have been dealt a hard life or posting or both.  With their six o’clock shadow, they’d brutishly show off a rose (huh?), a skull-and-cross bones, a bleeding heart pierced by a sharp dagger, a nude woman, or even some cartoon character like Popeye the sailor, with an anchor tattooed on his biceps.  




The universal message is “I’m tough and I’m out to shock the faint-of-heart.” The tatts are the hard-trodden, poor sector of society so when you see one, you tiptoe around to stay away, outside the line of fire, and way out of the dangerous fringes.


Well, times have changed.  Glossy magazines brag about the present crop of tattoo-ees who are young entrepreneurs, accomplished actors, and women CEOs who are likewise drop-dead gorgeous.  These women choose the ankle and the wrist as their favorite spots, that are more painful to endure than having it done in the thicker, more fleshy upper arm.  Even school kids sport them, using the water-soluble kind.

Tell me, why would anyone want the name of her boyfriend permanently etched in her skin?  What if you lose interest?  One analyst says, “ It is pushing the boundaries of self-harm to prove her love is real, even if with an expiry date.”  It was like listening to Diana Ross singing Ain’t no mountain high enough, with lyrics modified to Ain’t no tattoo deep enough, etc.  How far will you cut yourself and draw blood?



There’s something eerily striking about self-mutilation.  It is hard not to be impressed by it.  The wearer crosses a line that plain folks would never cross, going past the point of no return, and affirming the wearer’s free spirit and his nothing-left-to-lose defiance.

Well, not for me.  I twist with grimace at anything with sharp edges because I have a low tolerance for pain.  Ask any tatt however, and she will give you the raison d’etre to support this fad: 



• Tattooing is an art with a long history.  They’re maintenance-free, there’s no continuing cost, you can’t lose or misplace it and it takes no effort to put them on in the morning.

• While other people feel lonely or vulnerable without their prized possessions, having a tattoo won’t make you feel naked or alone.  One animal lover etched the face of her late golden labrador in her hand, “to remember him by,” she blogged.

To those who have not drawn blood or succumbed to any form of body art, you also have taken a stand.  You keep the body clean and free of any marks.  You did not give in to the impulse of carving something on your skin that may someday go passé.  And that’s the cruel truth.  Tattoos do fade.  Whatever bold statements they carried will end up as a faded smear of green or blue stains etched on dry, sagging skin.  



But all is not lost.  Tattoos are now erase-able.  They use a laser tool that traces the original tattoo and zaps it away, like a clean slate.  Amazing huh?

For the IGen, a word of caution: If you must, engage a reputable tattoo artist who has a sterling work ethic and is a master of his craft.  Avoid the carnival, feria variety which has no regard for hygiene and aesthetics.  Remember that contaminated needles can harm you, permanently.  



Once, Freddie Ranchez, my long-time beautician cum hairdresser (now long gone), sashayed in front of me with a proposal, “Girl, how do permanently well-shaped eyebrows and super fine eye liners appeal to you?” 



Intrigued, I raised my brow, â€œAnd so?” 



“Just think.  You’d be posh and pretty at any time of the day and night, and cut the time you spend in front of the mirror.”

Hmm, trust Freddie and his flirty-flirty device.



A minute lapsed and in a tone that I’ve passed my point of no return, I declared, “Okay, okay, when do I bleed?”