Inked

So, this issue has been weighing on my mind for sometime. I think, because it's one of those things that I have no control over, I let it bother me even more. I think it also makes me feel like my mother and older than I want to be, which also bothers me a bit. I really try to be open minded when the issue doesn't involve life or death, but for some reason I just can't get past this one. So I will lay it all out there and you can tell me what you think. Here goes:



My youngest daughter loves tatoos. She has 4 of them. She's 21. This bothers me. When I was growing up the only people who had tatoos where gang members, prison inmates and Hells Angels. When I was her age, girls with tatoos where considered cheap, fast or both. I realize that tatoos have become much more mainstream but for the life of me I just can't get used to it. The fact that I have a hard time accepting it also makes me feel old. The whole thing is a conundrum.

I try to take solace in the fact that her tatoos all have some meaning to them. At least they were not spur of the moment and seem to be well tought out. The Holy Spirit with a bible verse, Faith, Family and the most recent a pink breast cancer ribbon in honor of my mother. She is already planning her next one which is a fairly big one. The Faith and Family tatoos bother me the most only because they are on the insides of her wrists which i think is really hard to cover up. I also wonder how she is going to feel about them when she's my age, which is really none of my business, so why do I care? She has promised me she will not tatoo her face....I'm glad for that. Another reason it bothers me is because I think she is such a beautiful girl and to me the tatoos take away from that. I really feel like the most judgemental and prejudice person writing that. But it's how I feel so I might as well own it.

So there you have it. I'm officially the fuddy duddy mother of a young adult. Something I never intended on being and never wanted to be. I always promised myself I would not become my mother. (Mind you, I love my mother very much and she was a special person, but just not always the most open minded.) How does this happen? Is it just inevitable? Are we destine to become our mothers? I wonder......