So I just confirmed that 10 years ago (July 9, 1992, to be precise), I got my first tattoo. I remembered that it was during that summer, as I'd just been accepted to Grad school, and was about to quit The Job That Cannot Be Named But Trust Me It Was Awful, and had decided that permanently scarring my skin was a good way to mark such a momentous occasion, but I didn't realize the anniversary had passed a month ago.
I have no regrets about that one, or the three that would follow, and I guess if I've made it 10 years, I'm pretty much in the clear as far as regret goes. Speaking of, the 10-year anniversary of the armband tattoo pictured in this userpic will be February 2003. I figure since it's my most elaborate and most public one, once I've had it 10 years, I can finally come out to my parents about it. I envision it going something like this:
Me: [visiting mom, steps off plane in summer in tank top] Hi mom!:
Mom: Hi! It's great to see you...[double take]..What the hell is that on your arm?
Me: It's a tattoo. Do you like it?
Mom: Oh honey, you may think it's cool now, but you're gonna regret doing that. In a year or two you'll want it gone.
Me: I don't think so, mom, I've had it since 1993. But I knew you'd say that, so I waited to tell you so you wouldn't worry.
My mom's not a reactionary or anything, but in many ways, she's a traditional Southerner, and getting tattoos is not something you'd expect (or accept) from your only daughter. I wouldn't be suprised if she turned it into some sort of "That's why you've never been married- what man would want to marry a girl who messed up her skin that way?" type of thing. Heh.
Either that, or I'll find out mom got one when she turned 60 and never told ME.