You know that moment when you hear your parent's voice telling your childhood self that maybe you shouldn't do something until you're older? And then you see (more than likely) teen self thinking yeah yeah yeah blah blah blah ? Then you get older, maybe have kids and that moment is revisted and you wish oh wish that you had listened to your parents.
I'm just gonna say tattoos and piercings.
I have them, I like some of them, I regret some of them. I can't hide any of them from my daughters.
It's ok they're not all over my face or anything and as much I admire the sleeve tattoos that I see on people these days, I don't have those either. Two small tattoos on each arm, just under the t-shirt boundary and one on my back. The piercings have ranged from many of the ears, nose, tongue and tummy over the years; some have disappeared after having babies but I'm hanging onto the others.
I see MiddleS watching me and plotting what adult-MiddleS is going to look like. And that's when I get a little fidgety. I can recall the horror on my mum's face as I arrive home, aged 18 with tattoos, and again when I shaved all my hair off except for a dyed blond Tintin quiff, and again when I pierced more and more bits of my body. With a youth of constraints at home, in school, on track and field I guess I had discovered my expression and exploration in this way. At the time I loved doing it but she clearly didn't.
And now I get it.
That beautiful, smooth skinned, bundle that was her baby was not only growing older with all the shrugs and smells of a teenager but was now piercing and painting that package of perfection and what was she to do?
What will I do if that's the choice of any of my three? What the hell can I say? Who really listens to the regrets of others before making their own decisions? Maybe I'll join them in the tattoo or piercing parlour to get more done - that'll make it instantly off-trend, right?
This post is in response to a Post40Bloggers: Writing Prompt No14: Tattoos&Piercings