**Tattoo Insults**: For People Who Have Regrettable Ink

If I had to guess, I'd say your tattoos are a form of cry for help, a desperate attempt to get someone, anyone, to notice you and maybe, just maybe, give you a hug and tell you everything will be okay.

It's not that your tattoos are bad; it's just that they're so bad, they've crossed over into being good, but only in the sense that a train wreck is fascinating to watch from a safe distance.

If your tattoos could be summed up in one word, it would be 'why?'

Your tattoos are like the warnings on a pack of cigarettes – a cautionary tale about the dangers of acting on impulse.

If your tattoos could be expressed as a mathematical equation, it would be 'Regret + Poor Life Choices = A Lot of Ink'.

It looks like you hired a tattoo artist who specializes in abstract art, or possibly just abstract concepts, like the idea of good taste.

It looks like you decided to use your body as a notebook, jotting down every bad idea that came into your head, and then deciding to make them permanent.

Your tattoos are like a time capsule, a snapshot of all the worst decisions you made during your early twenties, preserved forever in ink.

If I had to describe your tattoos in a color, it would be 'burnt orange', the color of caution tape and biohazard warnings.

I've seen people with more tattoos at a retirement home, and at least theirs were just from World War II.

You must have gotten your tattoos from a traveling carnival, the kind that comes to town once a year and leaves a trail of regret and poor life decisions in its wake.

You must have gotten your tattoos from a magical genie who granted you three wishes, and your third wish was for a bunch of tattoos that you would later regret.

If I had to describe your tattoos in a texture, it would be the kind of rough, sandpapery feel that you get when you rub against a cactus, mainly because that's what they look like – prickly, uncomfortable, and just plain bad for you.

If your tattoos were a sport, they'd be the kind of extreme sport that only a few crazy people participate in, like base jumping or big wave surfing, except instead of being exciting, it's just a bunch of poorly drawn ink on your body.

You must have gotten your tattoos from a parallel universe where good taste and aesthetics don't exist, and all that's left is a bunch of poorly drawn ink and regret.

If your tattoos were a type of food, they'd be the kind of spoiled, rotten food that you find in the back of the fridge, mainly because that's what they look like – unappetizing, unpleasant, and just plain bad for you.

If I had to describe your tattoos in a color, it would be the kind of color that's always associated with warning signs and danger, like orange or yellow, mainly because that's what they look like – cautionary, ominous, and just plain bad.

If your tattoos were a type of food, they'd be the kind of food that's always expired and rotten, mainly because that's what they look like – unappetizing, unpleasant, and just plain bad for you.

Your tattoo artist must have had a personal vendetta against you, or they were just really, really bad at their job – or both.

I've seen better artwork on a fridge, and at least those are made by actual children.

You've got so many tattoos, I'm starting to think you're trying to make a map to help people find their way out of your dumpster fire of a life.

If your tattoos are supposed to make you look tough, they're failing miserably, because all they're doing is making you look like a try-hard who can't commit to an actual lifestyle change.

I'm not saying your tattoos are ugly, but I've seen more aesthetically pleasing arrangements of fungus on a piece of stale bread.

What's with all the tattoos? Trying to compensate for something, or just running out of space on your Trapper Keeper?

I've seen sharper lines on a participation trophy.

You must have lost a bet to end up with those tattoos, or maybe you just have a really bad lawyer who told you they were a good idea.

Those tattoos aren't going to impress anyone except maybe a blind person who's also deaf and can't smell the desperation emanating from you.

Your tattoos look like they were drawn by a kindergartener having a temper tantrum.

It looks like you got all your tattoos from a 'Tattoos for Dummies' kit and then decided to add your own special flair... of incompetence.

I'm not sure what's more impressive, the sheer number of bad decisions you've made or the fact that you managed to fit them all onto your body.

If I had a dollar for every tattoo you have, I'd have enough money to pay for the laser removal you so desperately need.

You must have gotten those tattoos as part of a sociology experiment to see how much self-respect you can lose before you hit rock bottom.

I've seen better tattoos on a reject from a bad 90s time capsule, and at least those would be ironic by now.

Those aren't tattoos; they're warnings labels for anyone who gets too close to you.

You know what they say: 'A tattoo is a great way to make a permanent mistake that will cost thousands to fix.'

Your tattoos are the human embodiment of a browser with too many unnecessary toolbars installed.