Tattoo Temptations

I'll admit it, I was tempted.

In my rebellious teens, when the sounds of AC/DC and Def Lepard channeled my anger at the world, I coveted a tattoo.

Nothing too large or too gawdy,just a single red rose on a thorny vine on the inside of my left ankle. The fresh blossom would have been barely open, a bright spot of dewy red.

I imagined legions of cute boys driven wild by the simple sexiness of my flower, depositing large bouquets at my feet.

Of course I never got the tattoo. My body mutilating acts of rebellion were limited to piercing my ears. That act alone got me grounded for weeks and labelled "as brazen as a prostitute" by my mother.

Today, when I spot tattoos on aging ankles, sagging arms, and droopy backs, I thank my mother silently for scaring me out of hasty permanent decisions. If it weren't for her, my rose would now be winding around my varicose veins, a scarlet blotch in sea of purple.

Today's Sunday Scribblings prompt is tattoo. Head on over to see what other's did with the prompt.