Frankspencer,
I'm afraid you may be right. Too many people get silly tattoos they'll regret almost instantly, and for the flimsiest of reasons. But please, if you will, allow me a rebuttal.

I am tattooed, and had it done when I was young enough to be bawled out by my parents for it, but old enough to have some common sense.

My tattoo is my name: I was named, indirectly, after my mother's father, who died when she was a toddler. Heart condition - he fell asleep on the couch one night, and never woke up. But I digress.

I designed my tattoo myself, and I'm immensely proud of it. It's an armband, and I keep it well hidden. Why? Because I didn't get it done for anyone else but me, and it's my call as to whom I show it to, and when.

Coincidentally, it's a wreath of laurel (formerly bestowed on victors, both athletic and poetic). As I'm only now exiting what I can unqualifiedly say has been the blackest period of my life - and not without a few fresh scars, mind you - I'm happy to say that my tattoo has served me only well, as a reminder of victories to hope for, and of hope itself.
(Elle Toupee, Sat 2 Dec 2006, 6:30, Reply)