I don’t think anybody has ever asked me why I don’t have a tattoo; that may be because I spend most of my days barricaded inside a self-made shelter that can only be described as part fortress, part homage to Bollywood. Or, it may be because, after having spoken to me once, the majority of people decide never to do so again. That being said, I thought, what better topic for a blog post than something that nobody has ever expressed interest in?
The reason I don’t have a tattoo can best be illustrated via a story. When I was in high school, I loved the band Twisted Sister. I don’t mean that I merely found their music enjoyable, I thought they were the best band ever (yes, even better than Warrant and Stryper). Their album “Stay Hungry” was not only the soundtrack to my lonely high school years but also became my life philosophy, leading, ultimately to a considerable weight problem. Perhaps a healthier album title would have been “Don’t You Think You’ve Had Enough Pie?”
In order to show my devotion to these rock gods I paid a friend to paint the “Stay Hungry” album cover on the back of my jean jacket. He did a stellar job and I proudly wore that jacket around until I could no longer take the twice daily beatings I received from the significantly younger, jealous kids. I ended up giving the jacket to Goodwill and in my heart know that some young Guatemalan refugee is currently getting the snot kicked out of him. Circle of life my friends. Circle of life.
I have more than enough naturally (according to several well respected veterinarians) occurring things on my body to be embarrassed about that I don’t need to add more. A full back picture of Dee Snider gnawing on a bloody thigh bone may be nice for some* people but I’m lucky that a group of good Samaritans was able to drag me out of the tattoo parlour and give me a good ass-whooping before I could go through with it.
*I'm using 'some' here of course to mean 'no.'
