"The times they are a changin'". Think that was from Bob Dylan, but can't remember. Hmm, wonder why... Anyway, this is one of my middle daughters' back tatts. One.
When I was growing up, tattoos were bad - only worn by soldiers returning from war; usually of naked women, and also by thugs (my kids say, what's a thug).
In my day, no one would have even considered a tattoo nor bankruptcy and I only knew of two friends whose parents got divorced. If a girl got pregnant, she was spirited away to a home for unwed mothers.
My dad wouldn't speak to me after I got my ears pierced so I can't imagine if I'd have pierced an eyebrow, nose, nipple or tongue. I draw the line at piercings, so kids you better hide them well. I might just have to yank them off if I see one.
It is amazing how much things have changed. Our culture seemed so much more civilized back then. Maybe it was just naive or innocent. No one would dream of talking back to a teacher, nor be disrespectful to their elders.
Societal mores aside, all three of my children have tattoos. They won't listen when I tell them they'll get Hep C or HIV. I tell them, no more tatts, but they continue. I think it must be addictive as I see no end in sight. Oh well. At least they are good kids, never been arrested, college educated and have good jobs. I'd like to find someone to paint faux tatts all over me to give them a real shock. Maybe even a teardrop by my eye. I'll show them thug.