With respect to the venerable Bard: To tat, or not to tat? That is the question. 

My granddaughter tattooed me yesterday. Or rather, fake tattooed me. A delicately inscribed “unforgettable” across my inside wrist. It didn’t hurt a bit, and honestly, I quite like it. I keep looking at it admiringly. 

The art of tattooing, decorating with ink or dye under the skin’s surface using various tools and methods, has been around for centuries, in all cultures and religions. It has been used across the millennia for identification, to signify membership and acceptance, for disguise, as permanent makeup, for celebrating life’s milestones and memories, or simply as body art and aesthetic decoration. 

Today, the World Wide Web has a plethora of sites displaying not only tattoo styles and designs, but also tattoo models, humans who earn their daily bread by actually being living, breathing art galleries. 

Neither of my parents had a tattoo, nor my grandparents nor siblings. In fact, my entire family was tattoo-free. In the years of my childhood, tattoos were regarded as the province of sailors, criminals, and the rebellious. Thankfully, the stereotypes and generalisations of yesteryear are eroding. How times have changed!

Whilst Hubby and I are decorated only with sun damage due to our errant sun-baking youth, three of our four children have multiple tattoos, with only one a cleanskin. It’s all a matter of choice, of personal preference and creativity, I understand that. My children, if asked, will tell you what their tattoos signify, and whether it be an individual life milestone, or a commemoration, or simply a beautiful memory they need to have inked into their skin, the symbolism is important, it’s their form of self-expression.

Granddaughter is telling me I need to get a real tattoo. She doesn’t appear to think tattoos are age-related, and of course, she’s right, just look around whenever you’re out and about mixing with people. 

It’s  interesting too, that she says it’s rubbish to say a young person will regret their body art when they age, because in her words, “they are memories, they are important”. So Nan,get a tattoo.

I laugh. I tell her I don’t like pain. I tell her I’m too old. I tell her there are many things I’ll never do in my life, and getting a tattoo is one of them.

To tat, or not to tat? That is the question. 

The answer is : I’ll stick with the ones that come in packets. They don’t hurt a bit, and when I change my mind I can wash them off.