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[David Anderson/The Daily Pennsylvanian

When you're young, it's a good thing to take advantage of your invincibility complex and act recklessly. Grave consequences are, for the moderately adventurous college student, few and far between -- perhaps non-existent, save for a little angst and melodrama.

That being said, getting a tattoo is stupid.

A physician or parent has concerns about getting tattooed, most of which are avoidable by research and planning. After picking out the cleanest parlor and the most reliable artist, and caring appropriately for the fresh tattoo, infection and other mistakes are preventable. A design that will later be regretted is also avoidable.

Images are powerful. An image can be loved unconditionally from the day it is inked, the same way people love the same great works of art for their entire lives. Names of loved ones or religious symbols are perfect examples. Christianity hasn't gotten sick of the cross for several centuries, so you're probably safe for the next 40 years or so.

All that aside, why are most kids really doing it? The invincibility complex comes with a nasty little side-effect known as rebellion. Nothing makes us feel more badass than walking into a tattoo parlor named something like "Pain" or "Coming in Here Makes You Totally Bad" and looking the clerk into his heavily pierced face to convey that you're not just there to look around. You may think he is impressed, but he is not. He does this for a living. We, however, are out to prove that we believe in something, that we are so in touch with who we are that we can give our body irrevocable physical changes. We don't care if it is unconventional -- we are individuals in the prime of our lives, and we can make our own decisions.

I have a tattoo. It is currently celebrating its fifth month on my lower right hip, where it takes up about four square inches. I loved mine, until I noticed I was hesitant to show it to my friends and family when they asked to see it. I showed it with an explanation hanging off my lips. I thought I got it to prove I was strong. I designed it myself to show that I was an artistic individual. And I felt pretty cool as the needle drilled through my skin, while I distracted myself singing '80s hits through clenched teeth. It hurt like hell, and I thought the pain was worth "the experience."

Recently, I found myself blathering on to a friend of mine about why I got it. He nodded politely, then asked if I regretted it. I said that I didn't. He asked, "Would you do it all over again?" I stopped. I said, "I'm not sure. I'm pretty sure I would." He smiled and said, "Well, if you wouldn't do it again, that's regret. I think you get more remorse from that thing than pride."

Suddenly, I realized he was right. The truth was, I was just another dumb kid who got a really dumb tattoo for a really dumb reason. I'd made a huge mistake and had spent the last five months loving it to avoid regretting it. I had emerged from the chair not one bit more individual. I wasn't challenging anything or anyone. And I wasn't strong. You don't have to be tough to get tattooed. Once you're in the chair, there's no going back, no matter how much it hurts, so you tough it out. All it takes is an ass to sit in a chair.

A tattoo is not a rebellion -- it's a cliche. Thousands, maybe millions of Americans have them today, and if you look around you, you'll find most of them are ill-conceived, meaningless and ugly. They are tribal designs on a football player's bicep and a butterfly on the lower back of a sorority girl. It takes a kind of vision to get a great tattoo, and most of us just aren't cutting it. Because it is not hard to walk into a tattoo parlor. Anyone can -- it's easy. It is easy to be attracted to it, easy to think that it can help define us, easy to think that we made this decision alone. Alone with another 999,999 individuals.

Well, looks are only skin-deep. And so is my tattoo. So I'm thinking of asking to have it lasered off as my Christmas present. I will not be the only one at the clinic.

Jessica Lussenhop is a senior English major from St. Paul, Minn. Textual Revolution appears on Fridays.

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