Ugh!

I used to think that tattoos were the province of the dregs of society. You know, white trash. (They tend to show poorly on non-white skin ….) Then many years ago I learned that Kind Edward VII of England sported one on the royal behind and realized that poor taste was classless and universal.

The problem for those making a commitment to being voluntarily scarred for life is that the things are very hard to remove. Further, you had better be sure about your loved ones because that tribute to ‘Violet – ’til death do us part’ tends to get a bit old when you find her in bed with your best friend, and the heart on your chest lovingly pierced with an arrow proclaiming ‘Mother’ takes on a new meaning when you find that when the old lady croaked, she left her not inconsiderable pile to the local humane shelter, dashing your visions of that new sports car.

Here are a few of the more colorful irreversible indiscretions I have chanced on in recent times:

Bikers. G1, kit lens @ 28mm, 1/640, f/7.1, ISO320

The car painter. 5D, 24-105mm @ 90mm, 1/90, f/4.5, ISO 125.

Full throttle death’s head. 5D, 24-105mm @ 100mm, 1/500, f/5.6, ISO250