Why David Campbell regrets getting a tattoo

HE HATES his tattoo, admits David Campbell, who got inked on his arm while in New York in the 1990s. Then one day his eldest son asked: “What’s that, Dad?”. Awkward.

David Campbell is now the parent who, under no circumstances, wants his kids to think his tattoo is cool. Picture: Nigel Lough

I HATE my tattoo. As my wife said once: “It’s a very ’90s tattoo.” And she’s right. It’s a quasi Celtic armband I got in Chinatown in New York in the 1990s.

I wasn’t drunk; I was feeling very lost at the time. I was living in NYC, my career was in its infancy and I had no idea what I was doing or who I was. I was suffering from anxiety and panic attacks. Lacking in confidence and control. So this felt liberating. Exciting. Look at me. I am edgy. That’s right fellas, have you seen this? What’s that, ladies? Under my T-shirt? Why that’s my new tatt. I got ink done. I also shaved my head. So angsty.

Except my hair grew back. The tattoo is still there.

I have grappled with loving it over the years. Of it being a symbol of where I was in my life at that time. Something that did not define me as who I am today, more something that marked where I was; where I have come from.

Except now. Now I have had a bunch of therapy and I am married to a wonderful woman who committed to me despite the vaguely Pamela-Anderson-in-Barb-Wire artistic statement on my right arm. I have a gorgeous family. Then it happened.

One day a few years back, my eldest son, Leo, asked me the question: “What’s that, Dad?”

What was I going to say? I’d basically ignored it for years. Laughed it off when people said something about it. Tried to be cool.

I am now the parent who, under no circumstances, wants my kids to think my tattoo is cool

Yet here he is. The boy I adore. The one who looks to me for guidance in his life. The young boy who I will help shape to be a man. A man who will make his choices and one day be old enough to get his own tattoo.

So I said: “It is something stupid Dad did one time. Long before you were born.”

This was the final break-up between me and my tattoo. I had moved on and felt it no longer had any place in my history or future. I was over it.

For a brief moment I toyed with the idea of adding more to hide the embarrassment. Like trying to get out of debt by spending more money.

I get it. Hipsters. Sleeves. Your kids’ names. Your favourite album. I totally understand why this fabulous form of inky self-expression exists. But this one means nothing. It has no bearing in my life at all. I literally spent two hours picking it out of a catalogue.

I am now the parent who, under no circumstances, wants my kids to think my tattoo is cool. Hell, I don’t even like the fake ones kids get in party bags.

I can get it removed. It would be super-painful, take a long time and my right arm would end up looking like Angelina Jolie after her big ink removal following her second marriage.

Or I can leave it. My mark of how un-cool I really am. A lesson to my kids. Dad was an idiot. He did not have a clear idea of who he was so he went exploring. Now it’s there forever. I mean FOREVER.

Stay away from Chinatown, kids.

David co-hosts Today Extra, 9am weekdays, on the Nine Network.

Originally published as Why David Campbell regrets getting a tattoo