I'm not big on tattoos on either gender, but I never really say anything about them. That whole article seems like shitslinging. If you want a tattoo, meh, go for it.
Yeah...I fumbled around with the idea a couple of times in my early twenties, but I always thought to myself, "I probably won't want this when I'm sixty." The only time it was ever considered was while a group of us were drunk-a-poos, and nobody should make a decision like that while under the influence.
I never actually thought about getting one until recently, as i considered myself to be way too fickle about what i wanted. Not to mention I'm Jewish and the whole "No graven images" thing. Then i thought about finding out the number was that was tattoo'ed on my Great Grandmother during her time she spent in which ever concentration camp they had her in, and getting that in the same place in her honor.
I have heard of some relatives of survivors doing that (Jewish and Not Jewish, as we werent the only ones who were singled out) but it's a very polarizing issue. Some people receive it really well, and others get offended. I'm probably not going to do it, because i dont want to bring it up if it is going to cause other people in my family pain.
Though my older brother did get tattoo's of his children's names in Hebrew on one of his forearms. That looks pretty cool.
I think that's actually tasteful. Something of a memento and cultural.
A theme that i think people learned from the Holocaust and echoed through at least the Jewish Community is "Never Again." When i read that some people did that i was really blown away. I thought honoring the person in that way was pretty awesome.
What i remember of my great grandmom, she was an amazing person.
http://articles.philly.com/1989-04-06/news/26143569_1_shoes-immigrant-family-business
She would take homeless people into her house, and give them food and a place to stay until they were able to get on their feet. She also hired these same people at the shoe store that her and her husband owned. More is written in the link i posted, which was the obituary if anyone is interested.
I was 10 when she passed away. I remember every time i went over her house as a kid, she insisted on giving me $20 (which was a lot of money for a little kid).
My last comment is somewhat amusing. The last time i saw her was in the hospital... at this point i had previously had a really bad sprained foot/ankle by missing a step outside a friends friends house in the dark (i came down really hard on it). So i had on a cast when i was in the hospital.
I was reading a book (There's a boy in the girls bathroom by Louis Sachar [he wrote holes, and sideway stories from wayside school]) while walking down the hall... and an orderly was bringing Cream of mushroom soup to my great grandmom. He spilled some on the floor, and didnt bother to clean it up. So i walked down the hallway in my cast from the previous injury, didnt see the spill... slipped on the soup skidded down the hallway and smashed my good foot/ankle into the wall.
So now i had a bad sprain on the previously GOOD foot. It's pretty impossible to walk with a cast on each foot... so i got the first cast off 2 weeks early, and another cast on.
To this day i make growling noises when i see cans of cream of mushroom soup. I think it's plotting something.