I want to be repeatedly stabbed with a needle injecting a foreign substance under my skin. I want to alter my body in a way that will last a lifetime and could bring shame and regret in the years to come. I want all of this, and I’m willing to pay for it.

I want a new tattoo.

But why? Why am I and so many other people my age willing to subject themselves to such a twisted, possibly regrettable operation? To remember a significant event? To crystallize words to live by? To impress others? To piss off our parents? To rebel against society and all the clean, needle-free, unblemished mores it prizes? Yes, yes, yes, yes and most assuredly, yes.

Of course I already have one tattoo — who doesn’t? I got it almost three years ago, just days after it was legal for me to do so. For $75, a burly, bald-headed man named Lance traced a winged foot in heavy black ink between my shoulders. A winged foot — a symbol, I tell people, to forever remember my track and cross country-running days of high school. But was that the real reason I got it? Did I have ink etched into my flesh solely so that in 30 years I would have something, in addition to the medals, newspaper clippings, photographs and memories, to remind me of my running exploits? Or did I get it for a different, more immediate reason?

At this age, we’re all looking to rebel. Often times, we’re not even sure what it is we’re trying to rebel against — “society” or “the man” or whatever other nameless, faceless cosmic entity we feel holds us back. This rebellion takes many forms: sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, as the clich‚ goes — all the things our mothers told us not to do. Tattoos fit right in among these things, but are unique as an outlet of youthful rebellion. They are anachronistic, a socially acceptable way to rebel against society.

While our other means of rebellion, such as our cherished binge drinking and casual sex are stymied seemingly at every turn by MIP-writing police officers and abstinence propaganda, not to mention the real consequences of such actions, a tattoo is not hindered by such social outcry.

There is not Mothers Against Tattoos, only that familiar warning, “You’ll be stuck with it the rest of your life.” And even that admonition comes across as a seduction, a dare to actually get the ink done. There’s something wonderfully satisfying about doing something that you know you may later regret and that makes “society” or “the man” shake its head and mutter about “kids these days.”

I want a new tattoo, I’m sure of that, but what to get? Perhaps another graphic, some symbol to define a period in my life, as the winged foot defined my high school experience. Or maybe some words to live by, the immortal words of some great philosopher that will remind me of the life I want to live.

Whatever it is, it must have some meaning behind it. Someone once told me that when you find the tattoo you think you want, you should hang it on your wall for two years, and if at the end of that time you still like it enough inject it under your skin, you should do it. That’s the danger in this kind of rebellion, that your desire to be different and unique will cause you to make a rash and poorly meditated decision, and you’ll end up with the name of a fleeting significant other or a Chinese character whose definition you can’t quite remember printed on you till death or laser surgery do you part. And if that is the case, you’ve proved “the man” right.

A tattoo, carefully selected, be it a winged foot, a Chinese character, or anything else, trumpets one’s youth and individuality. It’s hip, meaningful and permanent, but even more than that, it’s a contract, signed over your skin, to never grow up.

When you get a tattoo, you’re representing your opinions and mindset of the current time. You’re promising yourself that you’ll never change; never become uncool, never swerve in your beliefs, and never become a social automaton. Your tattoo had a deep meaning when you got it, so if you find yourself regretting it, you must have lost yourself somewhere and you’re lucky the tattoo is there to set you back on track.

Yes, I want a new tattoo, and I think I’ve decided what it will be. It’ll be the words of a great philosopher — words I live by. It’ll say, “Never slow down, never grow old.”