Oh shock, the daughter wants a tattoo!
Our daughter has been toying with the idea of getting a tattoo for some time now. In the meantime, the good child has grown into a young woman, she will be twenty in November. Her three-year relationship with her boyfriend Alex recently broke up. He wasn't quite as keen on body painting as she was. But that wasn't the only difference in the partnership and not the reason for their parting.
However, a new phase of life is about to begin. Our daughter thinks it should start with a tattoo. My husband and I agree that we don't really like this body painting up and down the country. Our eyes aren't really used to tattoos, on the contrary, we simply find blank skin more beautiful.
So we try to counter it with health risks or age-related changes that cause whole letters or parts of a picture to fall into deep furrows. Haha, of course young people laugh at that, who deals with things at mum's age?
We google for unsuccessful tattoos by tattoo artists with sparingly artistic genes or grammatical underdevelopments. We advise temporary fake tattoos, like when we used to fix decals from chewing gum packets to our upper arms with spit.
Tattoo or too late?
A few rounds of conversation later comes the surprise over the phone: «Mum, you love me, don't you?» Of course I do, I think, but ohalätz, what's next? And then it bubbles out of her: «I've done it, it's done, I now have a tattoo! And you know what, it didn't hurt at all!»
Crap, I think. Not because I want my child to be in pain, of course. But if it had at least really stung and burned, I'm quite sure it would have been a one-off for our daughter. Because, I am convinced, once the tattoo dam is broken, one thing follows another.
«I'm so proud of myself. And it strengthens me!» the girl says in a firm voice. And the more she tells me about her feelings, I think, gosh, as a mum, can I just keep showing my dislike like this? After all, it's just a small piece of writing that she has on a rib. Or on her forehead? «Where and what?» I want to know. She hands the phone to her friend who has accompanied her. «It's just a tattoo, isn't it?» I ask hesitantly. And then I hear the two girls chuckling and the connection is cut.
I tell my husband what I've just heard. He sits down, listens and we agree: it could have been worse. A small lettering on the rib. The main thing is that my daughter is fine, he summarises.
My concerns that a second tattoo might soon follow turn to humour and we jump into suggestions for new tattoos: How about a practical corona face mask? Or if it has to be lettering: why not a crossed-out Alex? And a Felix above it? We still have a few ideas. At this very moment, my daughter calls me: «Mum, you love me, don't you? »
