All posts by Kirsetin

Tramp Stamp Barbie: Wow!

Parenting, perspective


So Barbie turned 50 and got herself a tatt.  If this isn’t causing a stir among moms, what is?

Opinions are so strong on both sides, ranging from the far conservative “Mattel is bad.  Bad!” to those way over on the other side yelling, “Hey, awesome, tatts for all!”  
Where do I fall?  As usual, to my mother’s chagrin, somewhere in the middle.  I think my mom would like to hear me say, “No way.  This is totally wrong.”  Or, “Yes, go Barbie!  Get some tatts already,” instead of, “Well, I don’t like it, but I don’t think it should be banned.”  “Take a stand, will ya.”  I can hear her already.
So here’s the thing:  I’m not a fan of the tattoo.  If you have one, I don’t think less of you or think you’re trashy or think you’re super cool.  I mostly think, “Ouch,” and “Wow, I hope you still look that good when you’re 60.”  It’s the permanence that bothers me.  For my son, who went through a “Weird Al is so cool” stage (and would not be caught dead flaunting those same songs on his iPod a mere 2 years later), I put it this way:
“Remember when you thought Weird Al was so great?”  
“Uh, huh.  Yeah,” as he glances sideways at me, wondering where I’m going with this.
“You downloaded all those songs, and we even went to that concert?”
Laughing now, “Yeah, I remember.  So what?”
“Well, what if you had gotten a big tattoo that said ‘Weird Al Rocks.’  How would you feel about that now?”
Eyes WIDE open.  
Point to mom.
A dear friend of mine has a tattoo on her lower back, off to the right.  Unless you’re hanging out with her at the sauna, you’re not gonna see it.  It’s small, and she got it before she turned 20, and now she wishes she hadn’t.  It just doesn’t fit who she is anymore.  And that’s the thing.  At every stage, we think we know our own self best.  At 10, we’re good.  At 20, we’re better.  It takes awhile to realize that we don’t always have it goin’ on, at least not as well as we think we do.
My childhood behavior was far from ideal.  Trouble, yep, I had some.  If they’d have been popular in my day, I’d have been a prime candidate for a belly ring.  Do I equate belly rings with trouble?  Nope.  Would it have caused trouble in my family?  All sorts.  I relished those opportunities, sorry to say.  And, girlfriends, you better believe I’m glad tatts weren’t popular back then.  Because I have grown and travelled and experienced and I am not the same girl I once was.  I’d be really sorry now if I had a body full of permanent ink claiming to be something or someone I’m not.
That said, press-on tattoos with kids have been popular since mine were born.  Every birthday party, school party, and Halloween sees some kind of press-on tatt action.  One of the first things we did at my son’s Pirate Party was give everyone a pirate tattoo.  I don’t love ’em, but I don’t ban ’em, either.  They wash right off.  Well…after a week or so they do.
For parents who think real tattoos are art, or offer a necessary form of self-expression, well, they’re the parents.  That’s the thing about a democracy.  We all get to choose:  to buy or not buy, to support or not support, to vote for or against, all sorts of things.  Even Totally Stylin’ Tattoos Barbie, which, by the way, is Mattel’s official name for the doll.
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Simple Thoughts About the Economy

balance, finances, Midwest Parents, NY Times

So when I say, “I’ve decided to stop watching the economic reports on the news,” it’s a bit misleading.  I don’t really watch the news anyway.  I can’t remember the last time I saw the 6:00 news (do they still have that?) and, since my Kindergartener leaves the house at 7:15AM a couple of days a week, I’ve taken to missing the 11:00 broadcast, too.

Think I’m missing out?  Don’t fret.  I get the news, just not on TV.  I am, admittedly, a bit of a NY Times junkie.  Perhaps you knew that because of this or this or this.  No?  Okay, well, I admit it. 

What does all of this have to do with the economy, Chris Brown and Rihanna, and Conan? To find out, check out my post at Midwest Parents today.  You’ll laugh at the end, I promise.

photo credit:  cursedthing

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