There was a time when I was not a fan of tattoos. I have none myself; though, in my youth I had thoughts of it. My experience with piercings, however, changed my mind about what my body would tolerate. Let's call it "poor Irish skin." That one brief flirtation with permanent rebellion quickly quieted, and I moved on to other things.
I have always attempted to take "the aesthetic approach" to beauty, particularly the beauty of women. I wanted something more than just a sexual rush (not that that isn't enjoyable!); I wanted something more sustaining. In my search for a more sustained and enlightened experience, I discovered many wonderful erotic photography sites (which I won't mention here). I preferred "cleanskins" and a lithely figure. Tattoos were anathema to this predilection until fairly recently. I had not questioned that aesthetic value of tattoos; I had accepted that they weren't aesthetic or tasteful, that a tattoo was a blemish and its symbolism of "rebellion" took its bearer away from the ideal - my ideal, my limited ideal.
I no longer see tattoos in that light - but I am still not sure what has changed in my perspective. I am still unsure about a lot of things relating to my taste or my perspective, hence the need to engage in a more thoroughgoing aesthetic meditation. I'll try and figure it out. And I'll try not to sound too pompous or dickish as I do so. I will enjoy, gleefully, the wonderful offerings of the Suicide Girls as I work my way through it! More to come (perhaps)...
