by, 05-15-2010 at 06:38 PM (2402 Views)
I was talking with my son recently when the collar of his shirt moved and I saw that he had a tatoo on his chest. Another tatoo!
Now I have to admit that I am not a fan of the tatoo. I know they are popular these days, much to my chagrin. And to those of you here on Lit-Net who are decorated in this fashion, this is not directed at you or about you. I like your tatoos, just fine. But they are not for me, and I have to say, I wish they were not for my sons. But they love them and would, I think, be covered in them if they could.
All my sons are too old for me to tell them they can't get tatoos, but I have asked the youngest to wait awhile before he gets anymore. He just had "Texas Made" put on his forearms in that Old English script. Sigh. In fact I was so upset we had a huge fight. Well, I yelled; it was probably more of a lecture, but my voice was full of anger. To his credit he just looked kind of cornered. I felt bad, but I hate them. My stomach was in knots.
Then I saw the other one. "You got another one!" I shouted. He pulled at his collar. "Yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "What does it say?" I asked. "It's your name, " he said.
"Really? Did you talk to your brother. He has my name tatooed in that exact spot."
"No," he said. "I didn't."
"Well, it's a little ironic that you had that tatoo put on when you know I don't like them." We grinned at each other.
"I didn't do it for you." he said.
I love you, too, son.