Truthful tattoos?

I noticed yesterday that a woman I work with has the word “fearless” tattooed on her wrist.

I tried to imagine going through life with this tattoo. I would have to constantly suppress a lot of emotions if “fearless” was eternally branded into my flesh. If I wanted anyone to take me seriously, getting that tattoo would mean officially giving up my right to display the slightest hint of apprehension toward anything. But I realized how contradictory the scenario of even getting this tattoo would be for me in the first place.
“What do you want your tattoo to say?” the tattoo artist would ask.

“Fearless,’” I would respond stoically.

“Have a seat,” he would command while he got out his supplies.

“Holy crap! You’re going to use that gigantic needle? Will it hurt? What if you mess up? What if something goes horribly wrong and it gets infected and I never recover?”

Already my message would be void and I’d have to choose a different tattoo.

I’m not sure there’s any quality I display consistently enough to have it written permanently onto my skin. I went online to see what other kinds of adjectives people choose for tattoos. One girl I found had “spontaneous” tattooed on her arm.

I decided I wouldn’t like being branded this way for life, either. It might be fitting of me on the day that I got it, but after a while it would just be entirely too much pressure. What if later I just became a really structured cubicle worker who liked to plan things in advance and make lists?

I pictured myself in my mid-30s, being approached by a coworker who had noticed my tattoo and falsely assumed that I was always up for a good time.

“What do you say we call in sick next week and hitchhike to the East Coast?” she might propose.

“Next week?” I’d say. “I don’t know.  I need to be home to meet the plumber on Tuesday, plus it would be hard to find someone on such short notice to take care of my cats.”

Confused and disappointed, she’d ask about the tattoo that I would be then hiding behind my back.

“That was from my youth,” I’d have to explain. “I’ve become a lot more uptight with age.”

Another popular word tattoo I found online is “patience.” Declaring “patience” to the world as my primary virtue would mean having to alter most of my natural reactions to avoid appearing hypocritical. I’d no longer have the right to get upset if I were standing in a long line at Kroger and a new line opened up, only to find the person behind me rushing over to it before me. Or if I got stuck behind a really slow driver, it would no longer be acceptable to shout, “Get off the road, Gramps!”

So, I guess I’ll wait to get a virtue permanently branded onto my body until I’m pretty damn sure I know who I am.