6 Unforgivably Dumb Questions That People Will Never Stop Asking About Your Tattoos
“Did it hurt?”
In the great words of Rachel Green, as a response to Phoebe’s disbelief over the needle process, “Mine was licked on by kittens.” In other words, yes, it fucking hurt. How could it not hurt? Do I look like a rock-hard canvas to you? People with tattoos are not immune to pain. You try sticking a needle in your shoulder and feeling nothing. But you know what else hurts? Childbirth. Relationships. Stepping on a Lego. Life’s a bitch; you might as well spend it looking like a total badass.
“How will it look when you wear a wedding dress?”
Actually, I plan to wear a morph suit when I get married, to save all of my guests the indecency of a sneak peek at my ink. Is that the answer you’re looking for? If you’re the kind of person who bases all of life’s decisions on the circumstances of one extravagant party, then you’re not getting an invite to my big day, anyway. Weddings aren’t about marveling over the bride’s tattoos; they’re about celebrating two people’s love for each other. That, and demolishing an open bar.
“Why did you get it?”
So that I could one day endure scores of questions from you, obviously. This is great fun for me.
“Is it hard to find a job with those?”
Maybe, if I was trying to land a job as a right-hand man to some highly-conservative, foreign dictator. Whether you get a job is based on a number of things like skill, qualifications, and drive. Having tattoos isn’t a quality that determines (or disproves) your work ethic. And if I ever came across a potential employer who is low enough to judge me on my tattoos, do you really think I’d want to work for them in the first place?
“What happens when you’re old?”
If all goes according to plan, I’ll be sitting on a beach drinking a brightly colored cocktail with one of those little umbrellas, pissing away my retirement funds on Tommy Bahama shirts and Ray Bans. Oh, you mean what happens to my tattoos when I get older? They get older too. We’re kind of a package deal.
“How much did that cost?”
Have you ever walked into someone’s home and remarked, “Nice place. How much money does it cost to live here?” Or pointed at someone’s shoes and asked, “What’d you pay for those bad boys?” No, you haven’t. Because it’s fucking rude. No need to throw common decency out the window every time you come across some ink that you don’t understand.