So you think you want a Tatoo....where?

The other day I was listening to this "young lady" talking about getting a new tattoo this weekend. She wanted to know what a few of us thought, so of course I wasn't afraid to tell her.

Most of us in our forties realize that this package called the human body never stops changing. Therefore, boredom with your body should never be a problem. We arrive small, and most of us die much larger and completely different looking than when we arrived. Women pop new parts, like pop corn, as puberty sets in, little boobies turn into popped out moving melons.

This youngin' thought getting a tattoo on one of those parts would be an attractive thing to add to her ever changing parts. "Ah huh," I said with a grin.

"Well my dear, consider this, from someone who was once young and not so old, your boobies are ever changing parts. You no longer have what you started with, and I promise by the time you reach your mid forties, they will not look like they do now."

She was quick to remind me, "Well not everyone gets old and fat! I'm going to stay thin and perky!"

What a jerky little turkey, "Ah huh, well they're gonna do one of three things my dear."

"What's that," she said with a grin.

"Your mamie jammies by the time you're 45 will either, bloom and fall down, wither and shrivel, or they will be perky and firm laying in the ground. If your alive at the ripe age of 45 they will have changed. There is one other possibility, you may loose them to breast cancer. If that happens, well then you've paid for a tattoo that so doctor simply cut off."

Her eyes grew big, as a couple of older ladies giggled, one of them gently told her, "Miss Kathy is right. I got me a rose on my Bobbie when I was about 25. I was a young, sweet sexy thing! But after a couple of children and a few mammograms, well that rose gives new meaning to a long stemmed rose."

Ain't that the truth, after mammograms I'm surprised they even look anything like they did after they release them. I remember the first mammogram I had. As the tears ran down my cheeks, I asked the nurse to fling my boobs out the 7Th floor window when I reached the ground. I was just hoping for a bungee effect, maybe they'd go back to a similar form. She laughed and said it won't hurt so much next time. I was thinking, "Next time my ass, if I ever get out of this machine you will not see me back here again!"

Do you really need a tattoo? Think about what that butterfly just above your hinnie is gonna look like at 65. On your ankle you think, well okay when you're 80 and your ankles swell up bigger than the tops of your knees, how pretty will that be? Come on, think about what you're doing.