Middle Child has started reading my blog. She is mildly scandalized by the tales I tell about her. However, she does have the developing sense of right and wrong not uncommon to a 12 year-old. There are some things which offend her greatly, and others that fail to do so, but really ought to do so. She recently informed me that in a previous post there were comments that seemed to indicate that tattoos and piercings were out of the question. While I have a couple of holes in each ear, and no ink whatsoever as of this writing, there is a formal policy in our household stating that the offspring may poke all the holes and be adorned with as much ink as they wish at the age of 18. (Yes, I know they will be legal adults able to make such decisions themselves. Eventually, they will know that as well. Probably as soon as one of them reads this post.) The point of this policy is not so much to prevent the lovies from covering themselves in permanent cartoons or hanging chains from their noses (or worse), but to ask that they wait for a bit of maturity before making permanent decisions about their bodies.
I am less alarmed by the potential for their appearance to shock the casual bypasser than I am that they will do something dumb in the bloom of youth that won't go away. Because taste changes. And so do bodies. Walker and I once saw a woman in a tank top go by us who had failed to consider that the location of her tattoo was one given to stretching and sagging. Oh, dear. That little guppy looked suspiciously like a postpartum whale. Ew. Not to mention the possibility of infection or poor workmanship by individuals who would be willing to apply permanent decor to the bodies of underage youth. Those stretching rings that go in the ear lobe? I bet that cannot be undone without surgery, and I wonder if it can be undone then... Anywho. The tween's need for Mama's complete honesty with the bloggy world should be satisfied.