There are cultures which consider a woman who can fit a cantaloupe in her mouth to be a creature of surpassing beauty. Other cultures consider a man to be mature only if he has a small ferret nursing its young in his loin cloth. 

Although the American culture has yet to embrace the beauty of the ferret as a symbol of fertility, we have decided on some of our own physical expressions, though they are not nearly as interesting. The most popular choice of youngsters in the U.S. is a hole in some part of the body through which metal objects are passed. Still other hooligans feel they must use their body in roughly the same way a child uses an etch-a-sketch. That is by drawing under the surface. However, it should be noted that turning people over and giving them a good shake is not an effective means of removing a tattoo.

My own experience with this kind of thing is limited to people I have known. The most beautiful woman I ever knew (or maybe she was the second most beautiful, anyway she rocked my world) at some point in our relationship, informed me that her nipples were pierced. I was overcome. I wept openly for days. Later I met a woman with a pierced navel. After complications our relationship finally ended, and I’m not above blaming that belly button ring for the whole damned thing.  

Anyway it has become my opinion that this is a very bad idea in general. When I see a person who paid someone to wound them, and is considering doing it again, I have to wonder. If they enjoy hurting themselves, what are they going to do to little innocent me?

Now I don’t feel too strongly about this one, so save your mail bombs for my religion article, but I will say that people look better the way they are made. Piercing any part of the body is completely bizarre to me. I want to know who the original guy was whose wife came home from a tribal war with a piece of a spear wedged in her head and he actually said, “yeah, that looks real nice honey.” I don’t understand why we as a society like women to have foreign objects located in their ears. Leave your navel alone. And while we’re at it, don’t wound your tongue either. It’s not sexy to have a wound in your mouth. I don’t care if you did pay for it.

It is quite common these days to see a young whippersnapper of either gender with a tribal design, sunshine or rose tattooed on their leg or back. Some are regular looking members of the tribe, while others could use a good shampooing. But I digress. I have nothing against tattoos, I just haven’t yet seen a piece of art I like so much that I want to see it backwards in the mirror from now until my retinas deteriorate. Call me old fashioned but I think scars should have cool stories behind them, which does not include things like, “Deano cut me a deal on this one ‘cause he knocked up my sister.” Or even worse than that is the “I just thought it was cool” story. I’ve heard that tattoos are addictive. Apparently, after people get one they can’t help but want another one. So what’s going on there? Maybe it’s fun. Maybe they inject you with a bit of cocaine when they stick you.

It seems to me that if you are going to have someone pierce your tongue or puncture you with needles, you are probably trying to gain a conversation piece and maybe some uniqueness. Well if its worth doing, it’s worth doing right, by God. So if you are looking for the ultimate self expression and one hell of a conversation piece, I have a few suggestions. First, have a mirror image of your own face tattooed directly on the lens of your eyes. People will always wonder why it is your reflection instead of their own that they see when they look in your eyes. Or if that doesn’t suit you, use the new advances in the war against baldness as a means of artistic expression. Try growing fur that reads a humorous message, such as, ‘’Real Mammals Have Fur.” And finally, if you feel the uncontrollable urge to participate in a piercing, remember one thing: If they accidentally hit the wrong place in your tongue while attempting to pierce it, it will fill up with blood to the size of a baseball. Or if you’re lucky, a cantaloupe