Skin Deep 223

Let’s talk about honesty this issue - but in a lying through your teeth kind of way just to make it fun.

Last month, somebody got a taxi from the train station to the office to come see me about something ‘important’. There’s a couple of things you can learn from that very short sentence already, the first one being that I’m not actually there most of the time. Thus a hundred mile round trip was duly wasted. I had a little sympathy so I called the cat back (people don’t use the word ‘cat’ often enough these days and I have been watching way too much Scooby Doo) to offer some kind of sympathy and to see what was so important.

When I found out what it was, all I could really offer was “Dude, I’m not your Gran that you can drop in on anytime, expect apple pie, clean laundry and a big loving kiss that you’ll give me anyway even though you’ll try to avoid it.”

This ‘really important thing’ happened to be somebody who felt he had been discriminated against for being tattooed. Some people I feel for because it’s true, some not so much. There seems to be some kind of misconception that the world gives a crap about you being tattooed. It doesn’t. It’s a beautiful personal choice - a thing you decided for yourself - but to expect the rest of the world to go along with it without question... well, that just doesn’t happen out there.

Here’s something you might have missed. The world barely gives a damn when you’re in a wheelchair and need to get on a bus. The world looks the other way when you’re feeling down. Pitch a tent on the side of a mountain and spend the night there if you think the world gives a flying one about anything that anybody does. The world does nothing but turn really slowly - oh, and provides gravity so we don’t all float off into space.

Anyway, this dude was mighty pissed when a modeling company had turned him down for a job because he was tattooed. They never actually said this but it was his gut feeling and I don’t know what he expected me to do about it. Call them up and shout at them?

I dug deeper. Turns out the job was for one single slot. Not a job in which one hundred models were required, but one. Sometimes those are just the breaks. But the worst thing you can do to yourself is blame your tattoos - that’s a slippery slope down the mountain when they’re with you forever like a Siamese twin that you got to choose.

They’re not to blame for anything - they are solid additions to your body image and psyche. Get great work done, stand up for that good work and all will be fine - and as many have proved time and time again, tattooed or not, the only way to really be satisfied with life is to kick and fight until you get what you want. Tattooed or not - that’s a fact.

I don’t know if the cat actually wore a hat or not, but it made a good title for an editorial.

In other news, I am reliably informed that tickets for the Great British Tattoo Show are now on sale. It’s going to be a fantastic event - I can’t quite wrap my head around the venue they’ve picked for it though. I’ve seen some killer bands there over the years so to be part of a show in the same place is pretty damn cool.

So cats... come in your hats - wear a red bow tie. Bring green eggs and ham.

See you there...


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