by Mark Zeiger

Created on: March 16, 2009

Jimmy Buffett recorded a song with an unusual title. He told a story explaining it. He related a family gathering at which a young woman rationalized at length her choice to tattoo a large portion of her back. As she concluded, the group's matriarch spoke up, pronouncing the tattoo "a permanent reminder of a momentary feeling."

Hearing this story set me back, yet again, in my plan to get a tattoo, even though mine has hardly been a momentary feeling. I've been contemplating getting a tattoo for a while now. Thirty years to be exact. I'm still optimistic about seeing it through . . . eventually.

Tattooing oneself is, or at least should be, a sobering undertaking. Modern tattoo removal techniques notwithstanding, it is a singularly permanent adornment. Too many examples, some far too readily apparent, point to the inescapable fact that a picture on one's skin will continue to be a feature of one's body for the rest of one's life.

Consider placement. A tattoo's accessibility depends entirely on where it's located. Some locations suggest that the tattoo will only be seen by intimate acquaintances. The question then becomes, is it worth it for that (relatively) select group? I want a tattoo that can be seen without removing too much clothing. I'm not shy about removing clothing, if the cause is just, but I'd like a tattoo that is a bit more public.

I also want it somewhere that makes aesthetic sense to me. I've never found tattoos on the front of the upper leg attractive, for instance. Despite the large area it offers, a blank canvas if you will, it doesn't strike me as a good location for an adornment anymore than a piercing there would be.

It also has to be located where I can see it! A tattoo will be, first and foremost, for me more than for anyone else. Certainly it will be more for me than my wife, who isn't enthusiastic about this idea at all. It only makes sense that my tattoo should be somewhere I can find it without resorting to mirrors or contortion.

I'm getting close to deciding to place it on my arm, probably above the bicep, likely on my left side, because that's my dominant hand.

What kind of artwork? What subject? I may have this one figured out, finally, but I'm still not sure. I'm not interested in shocking anyone with my tattoo. That narrows the field considerably. No grim reapers, naked ladies, or snakes emerging from rolling dice for me, thank you very much! The problem again becomes permanence. I've got to choose an image I'll always be devoted to, in a big way. My wife seems like a good choice, but I know that spouses outlive each other, and may remarry. My daughter is a better choice. I'll always love her, and no one will ever hold that against me. So perhaps her name? I can't see getting her image inked on me, because even if I could afford a tattoo artist who could render her realistically, which age would I choose? The closest I've come to a final decision is the Alaska flag, the symbol of my home and native state. I may outlive it, but I'll never outgrow it. At least I think.

Taking so long to make these decisions has reduced the likelihood I'll ever get that first tattoo. Fresh ink wouldn't be nearly as cool now as it would have been when I was 18, or 21, or even 29. I'm getting to the age where I worry about skin cancer, diseases, complications. I know that the services of a licensed, skilled tattoo artist will be safe and, if not painless, at least not excruciating. Still, the longer I think about it, the less likely it seems. But it will happen one day, I'm sure. I've promised myself that if it doesn't come sooner, I will get my first tattoo as a birthday present to myself on the day I turn 100.

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