Got ink?

When I was a kid, the only people with tattoos were grizzled old sailors with hula girls or anchors turning blue on their forearms, but today, it's practically mainstream to be tattooed with everything from fraternity letters on the ankles of bankers, to rose buds on the shoulder blades of middle-aged soccer moms.

The fascination for me is not whether or not someone gets tattooed, but rather how someone commits to a single image that will likely be with them for eternity.

Back in 1980, I wore skinny ties and was a fan of Adam and the Ants. That was thirty years and nearly 100 pounds ago.

I can't remember the last time I listened to Adam Ant, and if I had gotten a tattoo of him in 1980, between the proliferation of body hair that has subsequently invaded my body, and the abundance of cheeseburger-imposed flab I've collected, "Adam" would now resemble a Salvador Dali version of an Al Qaeda operative.

To me, it's a matter of design obsolescence across an ever-morphing landscape.

Let's face it; personal taste is totally fungible. One day, you're wearing a gigantic Led Zeppelin belt buckle to hold up your Wranglers, and twenty years later, you're wearing Bermuda shorts, humming "Saturday Night Fever" while lining up a putt at a country club. As long as you have the legs for the shorts, there's nothing wrong with that sort of change. It's natural. We grow up, and external forces help shape us. What WOULD be wrong is NOT changing.

Wouldn't you feel ridiculous with a Led Zeppelin (or worse yet a KC and the Sunshine Band) tattoo emblazoned across your forehead while you're plotting that 30 foot putt?

Regardless of whether or not society sanctions the tattoo you're sporting, what are the odds YOU'LL still love the sentiment or design as time goes by? To me, that's design obsolescence.

And what about how our bodies change as we ... um ... mature.

Long ago, I heard a comedian describe a young girl who had the image of a butterfly tattooed onto her firm breast, only to be asked by her grandchildren, years later, to show them her pterodactyl.

We're not static billboards - forever long and flat after enduring the tests of time and nature. We're evolutionary beings whose metabolisms and lifestyles change and whose body shapes follow suit - the ever-morphing landscape.

Today, people of all ages are plastering themselves with tattoos, and I wonder if anyone has asked them how hey're going to feel about those tattoos in time. Will they want to hide their defiant slogans when they go for that job interview after law school? Will they want to hide their proclamation of love for Jim when they walk down the aisle with Bob? Will they want to hide the lewd, finger pointing character they had tattooed prominently on their arm one drunken evening when they are campaigning to be the president of the PTA years in the future?

Some people probably love their tattoos as much today as they did the day they got them, but is that sentiment universal?

According to a Washington Post article, 25% of Americans between the ages of 18 and 30 have at least one tattoo. That percentage is about the same for those who are between 26 and 40. Unfortunately, about 20% of people who have tattoos regret getting them, and 6% of the tattooed public is trying to get the infernal things removed. Nearly 70% of those seeking removal are female.

And what of cost? It typically costs up to a couple hundred dollars per hour to get tattooed, and removal takes between 5 and 20 sessions, costing $200-$500 per session.

There are approximately 50 million Americans between the ages of 18 and 30, so if 25% of them have at least one tattoo, there are 12.5 million tattoed people in that age group. Let's assume each tattoo takes at least two sessions for completion, and we're looking at a total expense from that group of our society of $2.5 billion.

Removal for the portion seeking it (6%, or 750,000 people) would be nearly $4 billion. This is big business folks for the nearly 15,000 estimated tattoo parlors dotted across America, and even bigger business for the thousands of laser removal clinics popping up here, there and everywhere.

As much as I hated their domineering, oppressive rules in my youth, I have come to appreciate the brilliance of my parents. Their rule: no tattoos or piercings as long as we lived under their roof and relied on them to pay our bills. For better or worse, by the time they were neither housing nor supporting us, we decided to eschew tattoos and piercings.

This decision has saved me thousands of dollars, and even though my physique is flabby and hairy, when my shirt comes off at the beach, I don't have "Frankie Says Relax" plastered in large block letters between my shoulder blades. For the sake of everyone, that's probably a good thing.

By the way, do sailors get anchors and hula girl tattoos anymore?