Why is it that, in a world where fifty percent of us are unable to commit to a lifelong marriage, we are lining up to commit to using our bodies as a permanent art canvas?
Humans aren't static. We learn, we adapt, we grow. If I look back at the person I was at 15, or 25, or 35, or 45,—well, let's stop there—I barely recognize some of my personality manifestations. Some of those personalities I might envy, some I might feel nostalgia for, some I might even dislike and most I wouldn't understand.
So how then can we commit to a body change that is permanent? A tattoo that fits the present hippie incarnation might bring a shudder to the future tax accountant. The Goth tattoo that seems so apropos now probably won't fit with the future head of the PTA and town beautification committees.
So I think I'll pass on the current fad of body art. First I'm too old and—but wait! At my age, the incarnations in my future are much fewer than my grandchildren's and that makes fewer future personalities to object to my today's choices. After all, what could it hurt to try something new? Maybe a pretty little butterfly merely for personal joy, placed where only my geriatrician and funeral director will ever see? I'm sure at least one of my grandchildren can recommend an artist, even if they would die before accompanying me.