If I could erase one trend from history, I’m sure this choice will earn me some flack, but here we are. If there was one “trend” I could delete, it would be the absolute proliferation of tattoos over the last twenty years.
To be clear: I don’t harbor some deep-seated hatred for tattoos. I don’t have any myself, partly because I’m not keen on the pain, and partly because I’ve always struggled with the idea of committing anything to my skin permanently. I’ve written about this before, specifically in my post Losing My Tattoo Virginity.
My frustration stems from the loss of the “fringe.” There was a time when tattoos were a badge of rebellion—a mark of the counterculture. Today, they are treated as a mandatory uniform for “self-expression.” But there is a glaring irony in this: when everyone has a tattoo, nobody is unique. It’s like when hip-hop slang hits the suburbs or when “back in the day” enters the everyday lexicon of people who never lived it. Once the fringe goes mainstream, the “cool factor” evaporates.
At 52, I don’t have a tattoo, and in all likelihood, I never will. I live by my 100% Policy and Option C, which prioritize keeping my options open. I view my body as my own “empire,” and I’m hesitant to mark it in a way that feels permanent.
I’ve thought about it—if I were to cave, maybe I’d get something related to Batman, my all-time favorite hero since I was five. But what if my tastes shift? Then I’m stuck with a permanent piece of a past version of myself.
Then there’s the aesthetic. Call me old-fashioned, but I find certain placements—namely face and hand tattoos—to be objectively tacky.
But as I sit here writing this, I’ve had to look in the mirror. I realize my resistance to “permanent ink” is a symptom of how much I value evolution. I’ve been on this 1,000-day (and now “beyond 1,000 days”) journey, and it has changed me in ways I never expected. For a long time, I thought this blog was just about the numbers—the streak, the consistency, the vanity of likes and comments.
The truth? I have gotten more out of this writing than anyone who has ever read it.
I used to think a tattoo was the ultimate way to define yourself. Now, I realize that if I were to get one, it wouldn’t be for a fleeting interest or a pop-culture hero. It would be a marker of this process—the red fist, the pillars, the proof that I showed up for myself when it mattered.
Maybe I’m not commitment-phobic. Maybe I just hold myself to a higher standard of what’s worth carving into stone—or skin.
Rebuilding a life takes grit, consistency, and a lot of ‘Option C’ thinking. Having crossed the 1,000-day milestone, I’m now charting the territory beyond. The mission remains the same: No glitz. Just the work. New to the blog? Start your journey here to see the blueprint and the ‘Tricorder’ perspective behind the rebuild.
Thanks for stopping by Rebuilding Rob. Be sure to like 👍, comment and subscribe below. It’s greatly appreciated! Also, feel free to follow me on social media and check out my recent posts!
- The TikTok Paradox: A Screen Time Confession
- Burning the boats
- Comerica Park and the Architecture of Peace
- Rob Reviews: Project Hail Mary
- Why I’d Erase Tattoos From History
AI art created by Google Gemini
The article “Why I’d Erase Tattoos From History” first appeared on Rebuilding Rob
Leave a Reply