Posted on 15 November 2010
So there I was, enduring some of the worse pain you can imagine (unless you’ve been held in Guantanamo or watched All About Steve. Pee-yoo). There were needles, there was blood, I cried a little. And that was just in the alley outside! Inside I was seeing the best tattoo artist in the world, Peter Belej who was laying down some pretty fantastic ink on my forearm. I love tattoos! I love having them. I love men who have them. What I don’t love is the pain. It hurts and anyone who says it doesn’t is way too high to be talking to the public! Do I think that tattoos make me look better? Well, I know I like the way I look with them so…who’s to say? Lot’s of people think tattoos are crazy. They see it as mutilation, and I guess they’re right. I pay to have someone change my appearance. Which is essentially what people do when they have plastic surgery. Wether getting Botox, bigger tits or whatever Joan River’s had put in those cheekbones, people pay to have their appearance changed all the time! So why the bad rap on tattoos? Why is it socially acceptable (to a point)(and no that isn’t a boob job joke) for women to augment their breasts beyond all natural dimensions? No woman with a 22 inch waist has a 34 DDD bust-line, and if she did it would never be anywhere near her face without the aid or surgery or structural support! What about people who inject poisons into their faces to kill muscle groups that encourage wrinkles…or rational thought? Maybe I’ve been too harsh on my slightly ‘refreshed’ brothers and sisters when judging their choices, but let’s face it. Some of those silicone freak-shows can be judgey cunts too. It’s not about what you have done to yourself that makes people judge, it’s how everyone else feels about it that counts! I guess beauty is really in the mind of the person looking at whatever work someone else has had done. No one wins…except girls with 34 DDD. Am I right?
