I recently read the article posted by Steven D. Levitt (author of Freakonomics) on his New York Time’s blog. Entitled Tattoonomics, Part I (presumably there will be a Part II), Levitt raises the question, “Why get a tattoo?”
I have tattoos and I get asked this question all the time. I fondly remember getting caught in a surprise pincer attack on the subject of tattoos last April by both my father and my boyfriend’s parents while we drank coffee at a restaurant in Osaka. Apparently, my boyfriend casually mentioned to his mother that he was thinking about getting another tattoo during a Skype conversation a few weeks earlier. He probably didn’t think much of it, unaware that even mentioning a hypothetical future tattoo to his mother was the equivalent of dropping an A-bomb right in the middle of their dining room. (And, no, that metaphor wasn’t meant to express any insensitivity towards the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki).
Hide and I went to get tattooed at Chameleon Tattoo in Harvard Square. This is not a tattoo parlor I would recommend for people who want original artwork or big pieces (all of my friends with either go elsewhere). But their artists are very good with a tattoo gun and because Hide and I had images from old Japanese stuff, we just wanted a steady hand.
I got Namu Myoho Renge Kyo tattooed on my back. It’s the Daimoku from Nichiren Buddhism (Wikipedia it). Hide got the crest from his ancestor Honda Tadakatsu on his left shoulder.
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