No inkling to get inked!

As the summer finally dawn upon us, I’m starting to find myself in a growing minority among the wider population.
The lack of any ink adorning my body ie: my serious shortage of tattoos!
Now the days are undoubtedly getting longer and hotter, it not only means the girls’ dresses and tops are also getting shorter (bless). While, at the same time, blokes are discarding their shirts and other cover as they seek out some much needed sun and vitamin D.
In spite of these very pleasant (and in some cases, not so) sights, what I am really beginning to notice is the preponderance of both males and females sporting tattoos as they shed their clothing and saunter down our sunlight beaches and streets.
Back in the day— this was not that long ago; tattoos were mainly reserved for the likes of sailors, bikers and crims. Primarily, those among the wider population who were deemed a bit dodgy could only ever get away with sporting a tough sticker or two with any real credibility! Unless of course they happened to be from the Islands and where tattoos were part of their culture.
Actually, among my peers, skinny white guys with tattoos were seen as so gauche that we often labelled them a with the rather innocuous acronym: ‘TPOS’ – which stood for a ‘Tattooed Piece of Shit’!
Not so much, anymore. In fact, nowadays, it is we – the tattoo-less ones – who appear to be outside the mainstream, as being inked-up has become de-rigueur among the young, trendy and beautiful (definitely three categories where I miss out!).
One can hardly open a newspaper, read a magazine article or watch a TV programme featuring some super model; Hollywood movie star; hot-shot All Black or top-line cricketer (admittedly the latter is a rarity in New Zealand these days), without the requisite photo shoot or accompanying pictures revealing said hero’s obligatory skin art.
What is even becoming more noticeable is the number of females – both attractive and not so attractive (as well as young and not so young) – who are bearing some kind of body art. Apparently, it is not just biker moles and prostitutes who model tramp stamps nowadays. For the uninitiated, ‘tramp stamps’ are those tattoos that appear just above base of the bum and are on show for all the world to see whenever a girl decides to display a reasonable slice of builder’s crack.
These days, it seems every second women believes having a tramp stamp is not only very trendy, but a necessity to display the modern-day, women’s sense of individuality. (Obviously the irony that just about every other women having one as well appears to have escaped Miss Individuality’s notice in her quest for uniqueness!)
However, while all the ‘too cool for school’ crew may think having this week’s girlfriend’s name indelibly plastered across their backs; the date when their favourite rock band last came to town etched forever on their chest; or even the name of the outcome of a drunken copulation engraved into their bicep, the sheer abundance of people with tattoos seems to have made these walking ink works more cliché than chic!
And let’s not forget – tattoos are forever! That indelible image of Puff the Magic Dragon embedded on your left shoulder might have sounded like a great idea – and even looked kind of cool – when drunk as a skunk and away on a weekend visit to Sydney when you are 19. However, I am betting , it will not look quite as cool or be deemed that wonderful of an idea when examined in the cold, sober light of your grand children’s’ queries some 50 years later!
I am happy I have no inkling to get inked up. I think the double dose of pain – first from getting the tattoo etched on; and secondly having to look at it every day for the rest of my life – will help to keep me tattoo free!