Thursday, 1 August 2013

Tragic Tattoos

3. F*** (I'm sure it's simple enough to interpret)

All those four lettered words are inked into the knuckles of four different guys in my school, using fabric paints, blades or geometry compasses, undertaking a number of risks - infections, septicemia and maybe even cancer. What's even funnier is the fact that they can easily scratch the letters out using a blade. Ain't that masochistic.

Moreover, these words sound like catch-phrases of cheap sports brands. DARE YOU. PLAY YOU. F*** YOU. I HURL. Might as well have had PUKE tattooed on instead.

Homemade tattoos are infinitely cheaper than the professional ones, and infinitely riskier. 

Other homemade designs include random tribal designs and Chinese letters no one seems to understand (including the one sporting it). Sym, one of the inked clique in my school, has a rose tacked to his name on the left forearm, something incomprehensible on his knuckles, and the star attraction, a portrait of his mother on his upper arm. While I've never really seen his mother, the portrait is impressively lifelike (even though Mom doesn't have ears in it). However, I'm missing the whole purpose of undergoing an expensive, under-the-needle procedure for someone he doesn't even really respect. Maybe, if he has siblings, it might prove useful someday in a property dispute. 'Mere paas Maa hai'.

Two of my female friends have been under the needle too, for all the wrong reasons. They both got their (ex) boyfriends' names tattooed on their backs. Then they broke up. One's got Sunny in blue ink, while the other's got Nepal. Mistake, horrible mistake. I can't trust anyone to stay monogamous long enough to ink in their names. Their tattoos cost around 4000 (average), and if they have to remove them by laser treatment, it'll cost them at least around six times the initial price. So they're stuck with two persons they'll have a hard time forgetting. Even though they might choose not to look at their backs in the mirror (highly unlikely), anyone spending time over there will ask them, Who's Sunny? and Why do you like Nepal so much?

My sister got the name of our late, great Labrador retriever, Dolce onto the side of her wrist. This, I concede, wasn't such a bad idea seeing as Dolce never dumped anyone, was faithful to us until his last breath, and was done in a professional, aseptic environment.

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