You're Going to Regret That...

“You’re going to regret those tattoos when you’re 40”.

“Excuse me?” The locker room isn’t where I would normally engage in a conversation with strangers, especially as I am about to peel off my underwear and her statement not only caught me off guard, but braless.  

“You young people think that tattoos are so cool.  But let’s be real, between those and that thing in your nose it’s going to be impossible for you to have any kind of meaningful career. No one could possible take you seriously.” Her tone is venomous. She’s a Velociraptor in shower shoes and a turbie twist whose prey is tattooed people.

I’ve gotten plenty of negative input about my tattoos in the past.  They aren’t for everyone, and I don’t expect the general population to think they are as beautiful as I do.  The stories they tell are mine and I treasure them.  I can no longer imagine looking in the mirror and not seeing the flower garden on my arm that commemorates the strong women in my family. I don’t know what my wrists would look like without their symbols of love, loyalty, friendship, and giving would look like.

I love seeing my home state etched on my thigh; it keeps me close to home even though I live so far away.

I wrap my towel around myself.

“I see that you’ve already made a decision about who I am: a twenty-something loser.  Maybe I have a retail job that holds no promise for the future, or maybe I’m still a student who hasn’t considered her life past graduation.  Because you have made these judgments, you feel like it’s your place to tell me that the day I turn 40, I’m likely to glance at my body in the mirror and wonder what the fuck I was thinking.  A complete stranger, you have the right or maybe even a misguided responsibility to tell me what you think of my body. You’ve already decided that I can’t be taken seriously because of the tattoos I have, and the sliver of silver in my nose? You might as well call me ignorant while you’re at it.”

“Well, I… just think that people your age don’t think things through very well.  You might have children someday, and what would they think?”

“My age is thirty-six and I thought this through very well.  I thought about the limitations my decisions might place on me. Then I realized the most important thing: I will be successful based on my merits and the art I wear will not hold me back from that.” The Velociraptors eyes turn to the grimy locker room floor. “And as far as children, I see hundreds of them a day.  I’m a teacher, and I tell my students that it’s important not to judge anyone based on their appearance no matter what you might think of it. What are you teaching yours?”