Three months ago I wrote a post titled Don’t Get a Fucking Neck Tattoo. It continues to draw angry responses and comments.
Why? Not because it was particularly inflammatory or—to be honest—especially well-written. No, the reason people were angry is because many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many young folks (for the sake of this post, we’ll say age 25 and under) have zero grasp of the long-term life view.
Literally, zero.
When you’re young, you tend to adopt a “To hell with the world!” mentality. It’s along the lines of, “I’ll show them!” and “Nobody’s going to control me!” Oftentimes, it relates directly to some conflict with the parents. Back when I was right out of college, my mom REALLY didn’t want me to date someone. I immediately asked her out. It’s how the young-ish mind works, and—in many ways—it’s laudable. When I was 22, I graduated from college, said, “To hell with New York …” and moved to Nashville. Why? Because I landed a sweet gig and I wanted to go elsewhere. That sort of approach: Awesome. Fantastic. Dazzling.
Neck tattoos, however, are just stupid. One, because they’re almost always sensationally ugly. Two, because they hurt (I’ve been told) like 2,856 bees simultaneously attacking the throat. Three, because they last, literally, your entire life, and eliminate you from 95 percent of American job opportunities.
Think I’m lying? Two seconds ago, I asked a bunch of random Facebook friends the question—”Would your place of business hire someone with a neck tattoo?” The lawyer said no. The teacher said no. The doctor said no, the dentist said no, the accountant said no, the social worker said no.
The writer said yes. So, well, that’s good. But writers get paid in ink stains. Alas …
Neck tattoos often scream ignorance. They say, to me, “I’m amazing, and therefore I will immortalize my amazing ways with a tattoo.” They’re often Chinese symbols that can’t be properly interpreted; they’re Bible verses that could have been written by a 5-year-old; they’re motivational sayings and sports items (basketballs, footballs, etc) and beer bottles and … and … you get the idea. They’re things that a 25-year old wants affixed to his/her (really, almost always his) neck, but a 40-year old has little-to-no interest in.
Several years ago, my sister in law had a compass tattooed to her ankle. I was cool with that. She’s a successful businesswoman in her mid-40s. She pondered, she pondered some more, she looked over designs and selected one that fit her persona. Great.
Neck tattoos? Dumb.
Just dumb.
